THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


ENDOWED  BY  THE 
DIALECTIC  AND  PHILANTHROPIC 
SOCIETIES 


PQ2U76 
.VU 

Z6U 


This  book  is  due  at  the  LOUIS  R.  WILSON  LIBRARY  on  the 
last  date  stamped  under  "Date  Due."  If  not  on  hold  it  may  be 
renewed  by  bringing  it  to  the  library. 


DATE  RFT 
DUE  RET 

DATE 

DUE  KEI- 

Form  No.  573 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2014 


https://archive.org/details/villiersdelisleaOOdupo 


VILLIERS  de  l'Isle  ADAM 

HIS  LIFE  AND  WORKS 
from  the  French  of 
Vicomte  Robert  dUi  Pontavice  de  Heussey 
By  Lady  Mary  Loyd 


New  York 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 

MDCCCXCIV 


All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

THE  EVER  BLESSED  MEMORY 
OF  THE  UNKNOWN  INDIVIDUAL 
WHO    FIRST    INTRODUCED    ME  TO 
THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  THE  FRENCH  LANGUAGE, 
THIS  TRANSLATION 
IS  GRATEFULLY  DEDICATED 
BY  MARY  LOYD. 


m.9 

V757*DxL 


85 


TO  THE  READER. 


HE  writings  of  Villiers  de  1'Isle 
Adam  are  so  little  known  in  this 
country,  that  it  may  not  be  out 
of  place,  before  the  adventurous 
reader  embarks  on  the  perusal  of  the  follow- 
ing recollections,  to  endeavour,  in  the  most 
cursory  manner,  to  give  some  details  concern- 
ing them. 

The  most  stinging  satire  and  the  most 
radiant  fancy ;  the  keenest  appreciation  of 
nature,  especially  in  her  gloomier  and  more 
mysterious  moods,  and  a  constant  endeavour 
to  enforce  the  immutable  truths  of  religion 
and  morality,  and  the  inevitable  results  of 
their  contravention,  run  through  all  his 
stories.  And  nothing  more  genuinely  witty 
can  be  imagined  than  some  of  his  sketches 


i 


viii 


TO  THE  READER. 


of  the  more  peculiarly  Bohemian  side  of 
Parisian  life.  The  characteristic  of  Villiers' 
work  which  must  strike  the  thoughtful  stu- 
dent most,  is  its  magnificent  thoroughness. 
Every  one  of  his  tales  bears  the  impress,  not 
only  of  laborious  preparation,  but  of  the  most 
conscientious  elaboration.  So  that  every 
word,  as  it  finally  stands,  is  indispensable  to 
the  true  comprehension  of  the  authors  mean- 
ing. And  this  meaning,  again,  is  almost 
always  of  the  highest;  the  satire,  grave  or  gay, 
good-humoured  or  severe,  always  tending  to 
the  support  of  what  is  true  and  noble,  and  to 
the  punishment  (or,  at  all  events,  the  dis- 
countenance) "  of  wickedness  and  vice." 

The  poet's  immediate  friends  may  have 
blamed  and  deplored  the  extreme  Bohemian- 
ism  into  which  his  needy  circumstances  drove 
him.  We,  who  inherit  the  result  of  his  life- 
work — a  work  accomplished  in  the  face  of 
constant  difficulty  and  discouragement — can 
have  no  room  for  any  feeling  but  admiration 
for  the  man  who  never  published  a  line  with- 
out giving  it  the  highest  polish  he  was  capable 
of  imparting. 


TO  THE  READER. 


ix 


No  modern  writer,  with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  Edgar  Poe,  whom  Villiers  so 
passionately  admired,  has  his  power  of  digni- 
fying the  horrible.  And  none,  I  believe  (not 
even  Pierre  Loti,  that  master  of  the  art  of 
portraying  nature,  to  the  extent  of  making 
his  readers  actually  feel  the  heat  of  the  sun 
and  the  damp  of  the  fog  he  describes),  excels 
him  in  calling  up,  and  in  the  fewest  words, 
the  beauty  of  an  autumn  sunset,  the  dreariness 
of  a  wild  winter  night,  the  horror  of  a  long 
corridor  in  one  of  the  prisons  of  the  Spanish 
Inquisition,1  or  the  exotic  bloom  of  certain 
phases  of  existence  in  Paris.2  Brevity,  they 
say,  is  the  soul  of  wit.  Truly,  in  this  case, 
brevity  is  the  strength  of  style,  and  it  is  not 
easy,  on  a  first  perusal,  to  realize  the  con- 
centrated power  this  same  well-considered 
brevity  gives  to  that  of  Villiers  de  Flsle 
Adam. 

Of  his  life  I  will  say  nothing.  Its  story 
is  unfolded  in  the  pages  which  succeed  this 

1  "  La  Torture  par  l'Esperance." 

2  "Le  Convive  des  dernieres  Fetes,"  "Antonia," 
"L'Enjeu." 


X 


TO  THE  READER. 


note.  A  sad  enough  story  it  is,  full  of 
struggle  and  failure,  of  brilliant  hopes  and 
bitter  deceptions.  The  history  of  a  great 
soul,  full  of  that  peculiar  simplicity  and  un- 
fitness for  coping  with  everyday  cares  which 
so  often  accompany  genius ;  and  with  that 
sad  and  too  common  close,  so  eternally  dis- 
honouring to  the  public  which  turns  a  deaf 
ear  to  the  living  charmer,  charm  he  never  so 
wisely — death  in  an  hospital  ward,  followed 
by  paeans  of  admiration  when  the  brave 
heart  that  had  vainly  ached  for  just  one 
responsive  throb  was  stilled  in  the  silence 
of  the  grave. 

There  is  a  growing  interest  among  culti- 
vated people  on  this  side  of  the  Channel  in 
the  extraordinary  development  of  literature 
in  its  most  brilliant  form  on  the  other,  and 
I  feel  convinced  that  this  sketch  of  the  life 
and  works  of  one  who,  neglected  and  de- 
preciated as  he  was  to  within  a  few  months 
of  his  premature  death  by  all  but  a  selecl: 
few,  is  now  acclaimed  as  one  of  the  chief 
glories  of  modern  literary  France,  will  be 
heartily  welcomed  by  the  many  sympathetic 


TO  THE  READER. 


xi 


English  admirers  of  our  gifted  neighbours, 
and  that  the  knowledge  they  may  thereby 
acquire  of  the  great  French  writers  life  and 
labour  will  inspire  them  with  a  desire  to  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  remarkable  group 
of  tales,  plays,  and  novels  on  which  his 
reputation  rests. 

Mary  Loyd, 


3[n  sgemoriam. 


HE  author  of  the  following  recol- 
lections has  passed  into  the  silent 
country  while  the  sheets  of  this 
translation  were  being  prepared 
for  the  press.  The  thought  that  his  book 
was  about  to  be  presented  to  the  English 
public  helped  to  cheer  the  last  months  of  a 
long  and  trying  illness.  And  to  that  public 
I  submit  these  pages,  in  the  confident  belief 
that  those  who  have  the  patience  to  read 
them  will  share  my  admiration  for  the  grace- 
ful talent  of  their  author,  and  will  regret  with 
me  that  one  who  might  yet,  if  he  had  been 
spared,  have  done  much  invaluable  work  in 
literature  and  literary  research,  should  have 
been  cut  off  prematurely,  "in  the  flower  of 
his  days." 

Eeqtuegcat  m  pace* 


VILLIERS  de  lisle  ADAM 

HIS  LIFE  AND  WORKS 


VILLIERS  DE  L'lSLE  ADAM. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

First  meeting— Family  ties — Illustrious  origin  of 
Villiers — Genealogy  of  the  family  of  LTsle  Adam 
—The  old  Emigres— Good  King  Louis  XVIII. 
and  M.  de  Villiers — Motto  and  coat-of-arms  of 
the  family — The  Cure  of  Ploumilliau — Villiers  at 
the  parsonage — "  LTntersigne  " — His  parents — 
Genealogy  of  the  De  Carfort — Aunt  Kerinou — 
Peculiarities  of  the  Marquis  de  ITsle  Adam — 
His  golden  dream — The  inheritance  seeker — 
The  treasure  seeker  

CHAPTER  II. 

Birth  of  Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam — His  baptism — 
His  childhood— Stolen  by  mountebanks— School 
life- — St.  Brieuc — Laval — Rennes — His  first  poem 
— His  early  portrait — "  L' Amour  et  la  Mort  " — 
Elegy — Literary  plans — Family  devotion  and 
tenderness — "  Our   Matthias  " — Departure  for 

Paris  

b 


xvi 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  III. 

PAGE 

Paris — The  reign  of  the  common-place  in  literature 
— The  poets — The  defenders  of  the  Beautiful — 
"Le  Parnasse  Contemporain " — "Les  Parnas- 
siens  " — Catulle  Mendes  and  the  "  Revue  Fan- 
taisiste" — Triumphal  entry  of  Villiers  de  ITsle 
Adam — First  Poems — Friendships — Stephane 
Mallarme  and  Leon  Dierx — "  Claire  Lenoir  " — 
Appearance  of  Dr.  Triboulat  Bonhomet — A  few 
words  touching  this  personage — "  Le  Roman 
d'une  Nuit,"  by  Catulle  Mendes— Death  of  the 
"  Revue  Fantaisiste  "—The  Blue  Dragon  Hotel 
— The  Rue  de  Douai- — Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam, 
according  to  Francois  Coppee  37 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Early  influences — Charles  Baudelaire — My  father 
— His  relations  with  Villiers — Their  intimacy — 
The  Hotel  d'Orleans — Literary  and  philosophical 
gatherings  —  Leon  Cladel  — -  Villiers  and  the 
Hegelian  philosophy — "  Isis  " — The  Princess 
Tullia  Fabriana — Preface — Eccentricities  of  style 
— The  original  of  Doctor  Bonhomet — Doctor  C. 
— "Ellen"  and  "  Morgane  " — Sensations  of 
loneliness — The  Marquis  de  ITsle  Adam  con- 
tinues at  Paris  the  course  of  his  profitable 
financial  operations — The  poisoner,  Comte 
Courty  de  la  Pommerais — The  apartment  in  the 
Rue  St.  Honore — The  marquis — Aunt  Kerinou 
— Matthew's  decorations  52 


CONTENTS. 


xvii 


CHAPTER  V. 

PAGE 

The  legend  of  the  hoaxer  hoaxed — The  succession 
to  the  throne  of  Greece — Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam 
a  candidate  for  the  throne — "  Le  Lion  de 
Numidie  " — "  The  Moor  of  Venice  " — Nemesis 
— An  imperial  audience — The  Marquis  and 
Baron  Rothschild — The  Due  de  Bassano  and 
Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam— The  last  act  of  the 
comedy— A  poet's  conclusion — Death  of  Aunt 
Kerinou — Separation  70 

CHAPTER  VI. 

My  return  to  Paris — The  Hotel  d'Orleans — My 
search  for  Villiers — Our  reunion — The  earlier 
stages  of  his  lawsuit — The  historical  drama  of 
"Perrinet  Leclerc" — Paul  Cleves,  director  of 
the  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre— The  Marechal 
Jean  de  ITsle  Adam,  according  to  Messrs. 
Lockroy  and  Anicet  Bourgeois — Villiers'  fury — 
Letters  to  the  press — A  summons — A  memo- 
randum— Intervention  of  M.  de  Villiers — Provo- 
cation— A  duel  arranged — Settlement  on  the 
ground — Result  of  the  action — Biographer's 
reservations — Documentary  evidence  ....  87 

CHAPTER  VII. 

Le  Pin  Galant,  near  Bordeaux — Arrival  of  Villiers 
with  his  play — "The  New  World" — The  Ameri- 
can centenary  competition — The  character  of 
Mrs.  Andrews — The  legend  of  Ralph  Evandale  .  116 


V 

i 


xviii 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

PAGE 

Villiers'  rage  against  the  members  of  the  jury — 
Dramatic  scene  at  the  house  of  Victor  Hugo — 
Villiers  leaves  Paris — The  Bordeaux  theatres — 
Godefrin,  director  of  the  Theatre  Francais — An 
extraordinary  reading — Little  Mdlle.  Aimee — 
Madame  Aimee  Tessandier  131 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Restful  days — The  real  Villiers— Villiers  and  the 
fair  sex — Talks  about  b)7gone  days — Charles 
Baudelaire — His  true  nature — His  strange  home- 
life — Jeanne  Duval — Edgar  Poe — Richard  Wag- 
ner— "  Axel  " — The  Cabala  and  the  occult 
sciences — Villiers'  religious  sentiments — Quota- 
tions— "  L' Eve  Future  "  144 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  metamorphosis — An  ambitious  pastry-cook — 
Appearance  of  the  newspaper,  "  La  Croix  et 
l'Epee  " — Its  political,  artistic,  and  literary  pro- 
gramme— Lord   E          W  . — His  strange 

suicide — The  wax  figure — A  nocturnal  conversa- 
tion— The  American  engineer  and  his  master, 
Edison — First  conception  of  "L'Eve  Future" 
— Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam  and  Thomas  Alva 
Edison  157 


CONTENTS. 


xix 


CHAPTER  XI. 


PAGE 


Villiers'  absent-mindedness — His  terrible  careless- 
ness— His  departure  from  Bordeaux — Godefrin's 
despair — A  year  later — Bohemian  poverty — A 
justification — Want  of  money — Villiers'  diffi- 
culties— His  pride — His  artistic  conscientious- 
ness— Drumont's  book — Villiers  and  the  young 
Jew — A  good  answer — Villiers'  manner  of  life — 
His  midnight  wanderings — His  dislike  of  day- 
light— Villiers  and  Anatole  France  165 


1879 — The  Rue  des  Martyrs  and  the  Rue  Roche- 
chouart — The  poet's  room — His  extraordinary 
indifference — Leon  Dierx — "La  Devouee  " — 
Strange  habits — Villiers  in  the  street — The 
Boulevard  Montmartre — Nocturnal  declama- 
tions— Villiers  as  a  composer — Two  operas, 
"  Esmeralda  "  and  "  Prometheus  " — Melomania 
— Villiers  as  a  musical  performer — A  strange 
couple  178 


First  introduction  of  Wagner  and  Villiers  at  the 
house  of  Charles  Baudelaire — Failure  of  "Tann- 
hauser"  at  the  Paris  Opera  in  1861 — Portrait 
and  character  of  Richard  Wagner — His  friends 
and  champions — His  intimacy  with  Villiers — 


CHAPTER  XII. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


XX 


CONTENTS. 


Reminiscences  of  his  youth  and  early  poverty — 
Augusta  Holmes — Villiers'  visit  to  Triebchen 
—The  "Rheingold"  at  Munich— Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam's  artistic  confession  of  faith    .    .    .  202 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

The  marquis  and  the  marquise — Villiers'  filial  ten- 
derness— A  monomania  for  speculation — A  letter 
from  the  marquis — Villiers'  contributions  to  the 
press — The  "Figaro" — "La  Republique  des 
Lettres  " — Catulle  Mendes — J.  K.  Huysmans — 
The  "Contes  Cruels" — Two  quotations — Villiers' 
high  spirits — His  loss  of  illusion — A  study  by 
M.  G.  Guiches — Villiers  as  a  talker  and  a  mimic 
— Some  unpublished  traits  of  Dr.  Triboulat 
Bonhomet — Bonhomet  the  commander-in-chief 
— Bonhomet  the  ermine-hunter — Bonhomet  ful- 
filling the  letter  of  the  Scriptures — Bonhomet's 
true  adventures  at  Bayreuth  — The  political 
opinions  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam — An  un- 
expected toast — A  rupture  219 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Fragments  of  a  journal  kept  in  1879 — A  woman  of 
fashion  bewitched — Villiers  and  Mar  Yvonne — 
A  mystery — Villiers  a  candidate  at  the  elections 
of  the  Conseil  General — Opinions  of  the  press — 
Meetings — The  plans  of  the  future  councillor — 
My  departure  from  Paris — Our  separation — 
Description  of  Villiers  in  1880  by  G.  Guiches   .  237 


CONTENTS. 


xxi 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


PAGE 


Closing  years — Birth  of  a  son— Villiers'  widow — 
Little  Totor  and  his  father — Success  of  the 
"  Contes  Cruels  " —  Appearance  of  "  L'Eve 
Future"  in  the  "Gaulois"— The  "Vie  Moderne " 
The  murderous  treatment  of  the  "  Nouveau 
Monde  "  at  the  Theatre  des  Nations — The  deaths 
of  the  marquis  and  the  marquise — J.  K.  Huysmans 
— "  A  Rebours  " — His  opinion  of  Villiers'  work 
— "Triboulat  Bonhomet  "-— "  Propos  d'au-dela" 
— "  Akedysseril  "  —  "  L' Amour  Supreme  "  — 
"L'Eve Future " — Lectures  in  Belgium — Return 
to  Paris — Prosperity — "  Histoires  Insolites  " — 
"Nouveaux  Contes  Cruels" — "Axel" — Sick- 
ness— Letter  from  J.  K.  Huysmans,  detailing  the 
last  moments  and  the  death  of  Villiers — Con- 
clusion  251 


r  z 


Q-  •  '  ■      /     '  7 


^tarL^^  c^^y^  ^)£t^0  ^   rZj&c^    Xe.  Art*. 


eL  ,07^  fM^_  JU^^^ 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 
CHAPTER  I. 

First  meeting — Family  ties — Illustrious  origin  of  Villiers 
— Genealogy  of  the  family  of  LTsle  Adam — The  old 
Emigres — Good  King  Louis  XVIII.  and  M.  de 
Villiers — Motto  and  coat-of-arms  of  the  family  — 
The  Cure  of  Ploumilliau — Villiers  at  the  parsonage — 
"  LTntersigne" — His  Parents — Genealogy  of  the  De 
Carforts — Aunt  Kerinou — Peculiarities  of  the  Mar- 
quis de  ITsle  Adam — His  golden  dream — The 
inheritance  seeker — The  treasure  seeker. 

NE  Thursday  morning  in  Novem- 
ber, 1858,  I  was  in  the  dining- 
room  of  my  father's  house  at 
Fougeres.  I  was  eating  my  sad 
and  solitary  luncheon  under  the  eye  of  a  cross 
old  nurse ;  and  my  heart  swelled  as  I  looked 

B 


2 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 


at  the  cheerful  winter  sun  outside  the  window 
panes,  and  thought  of  my  brothers,  more 
fortunate  than  myself,  who  were  frolicking 
through  the  leafless  woods  which  so  pictu- 
resquely crown  the  village  of  St.  Germain. 
There  my  grandfather  lived,  in  an  old  manor- 
house  amongst  the  trees,  and  ever}7  Thurs- 
day, according  to  custom,  my  family  spent  the 
day  with  him.  This  time  I  had  been  left 
behind,  as  a  punishment  for  some  childish 
misdemeanour  or  some  ill-learnt  lesson. 

Suddenly  I  heard  the  rumble  of  a  carriage 
on  the  rough  pavement  of  our  street,  gene- 
rally as  silent  as  the  grave,  and  soon  I  saw  a 
hired  chaise  stop  before  our  windows.  I 
know  not  why  my  heart  began  to  beat  so  fast 
when  the  bell  (pulled  by  a  vigorous  hand) 
clanged  noisily.  A  moment  after,  the  door 
of  the  dining-room  opened,  and  a  fair  young 
man  with  a  large  head,  and  wrapped  in  rich 
furs,  rushed  in  like  a  whirlwind.  He  vaulted 
lightly  over  the  table  at  which  I  was  sitting, 
and  lifting  me  up,  before  I  had  recovered 
from  my  astonishment,  he  kissed  me  heartily, 
saying,  "  Good  day,  my  little  man — you  don't 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  3 

know  me  !  I  am  your  cousin  Matthias  !  " 
But  I  did  know  him  well !  For  long  he  had 
filled  my  childish  imagination,  haunted  already 
by  the  demon  of  literature.  How  often  had 
I  listened  open-mouthed,  forgetful  of  my 
plate,  while  my  father  recounted  at  the  family 
board  the  adventures,  the  oddities,  the  traits 
of  genius  of  Cousin  Matthias!  True,  I  un- 
derstood but  vaguely  what  my  father  meant, 
but  it  had  for  me  all  the  mysterious  charm  of 
the  unknown.  Meanwhile  the  unexpected 
guest  had  asked  for  food,  having  come  straight 
from  Paris,  without  warning,  as  was  his  way. 
I  see  him  now,  opposite  me,  eating  heartily, 
asking  me  questions,  laughing  at  my  prattle 
(he  had  put  me  at  my  ease  at  once),  and  stop- 
ping every  now  and  then  to  push  back  with 
his  hand  a  thick  lock  of  fair  hair  which  kept 
falling  over  his  eyes. 

"  You  know,"  said  he  to  my  astounded 
attendant,  "  I  am  off  to  St.  Germain,  the  little 
chap  with  me.  When  /  come,  all  punish- 
ments are  stopped." 

Willy  nilly,  she  had  to  wrap  me  in  my 
cloak  and   comforter !    Ten  minutes  later 


4  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Cousin  Matthias  and  I,  seated  in  the  little 
hired  gig,  were  bowling  along  the  frosty  road 
which  led  from  the  town  of  Fougeres  to  the 
village  of  St.  Germain. 

Such  was  my  first  never-to-be-forgotten 
meeting  with  Philip  Augustus  Matthias  de 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  then  in  all  the  bloom 
of  his  youth  and  the  first  blush  of  his  won- 
derful genius — his  brow  and  eyes  radiant 
with  those  beautiful  illusions,  those  glorious 
dreams,  which  attended  his  entrance  into  life, 
which  never  abandoned  him  in  his  saddest 
hours,  and  whose  melancholy  phantoms 
hovered  over  the  hospital  bed  on  which  he 
died,  high-spirited  to  the  last,  hopeful  and 
resigned. 

As  has  been  seen,  our  families  were  kin. 
But  I  think  that  the  cousinship  between 
Villiers  and  my  father,  and  later,  by  inheri- 
tance, between  Villiers  and  myself,  was  more 
intellectual  than  anything  else.  The  family 
bond  which  unites  us  seems  to  me  very  slight. 
It  should  be  sought,  I  think,  in  the  alliance 
of  both  our  families  with  that  of  De  Kersauson. 
But  that  is  little  matter.    What  is  far  more 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  5 

urgent  is  to  establish  the  absolutely  incon- 
testable nobility  of  the  origin  of  the  great 
writer.  In  his  lifetime  a  sort  of  mysterious 
legendary  haze  gathered  round  his  personality, 
and  I  fancy  he  rather  enjoyed  deepening  the 
fog.  At  all  events,  such  was  his  hatred  of 
all  that  was  conventional,  that  his  Titanic 
dreams  became  historical  facts  concerning 
which  he  would  admit  of  no  discussion.  All 
those  who  have  heard  him  speak  of  his  an- 
cestors, of  their  riches,  of  "  the  stately  sea- 
beaten  manor-house,"  in  which  his  early 
youth  was  passed,  will  understand,  without 
further  insisting,  what  I  mean.  Yet,  in  those 
rare,  and  for  him,  wearisome  moments,  when 
he  returned  to  earth,  Villiers  knew  his  family 
history  perfectly,  and  in  its  minutest  detail. 
He  had  studied  the  subject  profoundly,  and 
his  genius  illuminated  for  him  all  that  was 
prosaic  and  dull  in  provincial  and  Parisian 
archives.  I  know  a  certain  work  of  his, 
dealing  with  the  life  of  the  Marechal  de 
Villiers  de  Tlsle  Adam,  which  is  a  master- 
piece of  clearness,  eloquent  expression,  and 
erudition.     I  will  return  to  it  at  a  more 


6  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

opportune  moment.  At  present  I  am  chiefly 
concerned  with  the  poet's  origin. 

The  illustrious  family  of  Villiers  de  1' Isle 
Adam,  Seigneurs  de  Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam 
and  de  Chailly,  originated  in  the  He  de 
France.  Several  knights  of  the  name  took 
part  in  the  Crusades,  others  occupied  the 
highest  positions  about  the  court  and  in  the 
army.  In  fact,  the  brilliant  name  of  Villiers 
de  Flsle  Adam  is  constantly  flashing  across 
the  pages  of  our  history.  But  the  most  cele- 
brated amongst  these  great  noblemen,  too 
well  known  for  me  to  add  anything  to  what 
has  already  been  written  concerning  them, 
are,  in  order  of  date  :  Pierre,  who  was  Grand- 
master and  Porte  Oriflamme  of  France  in 
1355;  Jean,  Marshal  of  France  in  1437; 
and  Philippe,  Grand  Master  of  the  Order  of 
the  Knights  of  Malta,  the  heroic  defender 
of  the  Island  of  Rhodes  against  Suliman  in 
1 52 1.  The  nephew  of  this  last,  Francois, 
Marquis  de  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  was 
"  Grand  Louvetier  de  France  "  in  1 550.  The 
grandson  of  Francois  married,  about  1670,  a 
daughter  of  the  old  house  of  De  Courson,  and 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  7 

settled  in  the  bishopric  of  St.  Brieuc,  where 
he  founded  the  Breton  branch  of  the  Villiers 
de  l'lsle  Adam  family.  The  grandson  of  this 
last,  a  lieutenant  in  the  Royal  Navy,  married 
in  his  turn,  in  1780,  a  Mdlle.  de  Kersauson. 
At  the  time  of  the  Revolution,  he  emigrated 
to  England  with  his  family.  And  here  should 
be  related  an  incident  which  has  an  important 
bearing  on  the  curious  lawsuit  brought  by 
Villiers  against  the  descendants  of  the  come- 
dian Lockroy,  an  action  of  which  I  shall  give 
the  details  when  I  come  to  that  part  of  the 
poet's  life  in  which  it  occurred. 

At  the  time  of  the  Revolution  the  house 
of  De  l'lsle  Adam  had  greatly  declined  from 
its  ancient  splendour.  I  will  not  go  into  the 
causes  of  this  change  ;  suffice  it  to  say,  that 
when  the  naval  officer  emigrated  with  those 
belonging  to  him,  his  income  barely  sufficed 
for  the  strictest  necessaries  of  life.  It  follows, 
that  once  established  abroad,  he  did  not  for 
sometime  attempt  to  return.  Meanwhile,  the 
Bourbons  having  returned  to  France,  all  the 
so-called  servants  of  the  august  exiles  were 
clamouring  for  the  reward  of  their  services. 


8  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

A  certain  Mons.  de  Villiers  Deschamps,  a 
rich  man,  and  an  excellent  royalist,  asked 
permission  to  revive  the  name  of  De  Tlsle 
Adam,  which  he  affirmed  to  be  completely 
extin6t,  and  to  which  a  distant  relationship 
gave  him  a  claim.  Good  Louis  XVIII., 
delighted  with  a  petition  which  would  cost 
him  nothing  but  a  signature,  granted  without 
hesitation  the  prayer  of  his  loyal  subject. 
Thus  it  came  about,  that  until  the  day  when 
its  luxurious  peace  was  disturbed  by  the  poet's 
inopportune  interference,  the  family  of  De 
Villiers,  all  unconscious  of  the  fraud,  bore  an 
illustrious  name  and  a  famous  coat-of-arms  to 
which  it  had  no  earthly  title. 

As  I  have  spoken  of  the  arms  of  the  De 
Villiers,  this  may  be  the  proper  place  to 
describe  them  :  "  D'or  au  chef  d'azur  charge 
d'un  dextrochere  vetu  d'un  fanon  d'hermines." 
Mottoes  :  "  Va  oultre  !  "  and  also  "  La  main 
a  1  ceuvre. 

All  those  familiar  with  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  and  his  wonderful  books,  will  recog- 
nize that  these  two  proud  mottoes  seem  to 
have  been  made  for  him. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  9 

"  Va  oultre  !  "  "  Go  forward  !  "  This  is  what 
he  always  did.  His  clear,  prophetic  glance 
piercing  the  heavens,  and  reaching  in  its 
impetuous  and  aspiring  flight  far  beyond  the 
horizon  of  ordinary  human  thought !  "  La 
main  a  l'ceuvre  !  "  ' '  Hand  at  work  !  "  Yes, 
ceaselessly  at  work,  even  in  the  darkest  hours 
of  misery,  that  hand  of  the  artist  and  the 
gentleman,  at  once  so  delicate  and  so  brave, 
whose  labour  only  rested  in  death  !  In  his 
last  days  he  used  to  watch,  sadly  enough,  the 
failing  strength  of  those  poor  brave  hands 
which  could  no  longer  hold  the  pen,  and  he 
uttered  one  night,  to  one  of  his  faithful  friends, 
this  phrase,  which  sounds  like  a  knell,  "  Look ! 
my  flesh  is  ripening  for  the  tomb." 

I  return  to  my  story.  The  old  emigrd 
marquis,  Armand,  not  choosing  to  leave  the 
bones  of  a  Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam  in  England, 
returned  to  France  towards  1820,  and  died, 
soon  after  the  birth  of  the  poet,  in  a  little 
manor-house,  whose  only  tower  overlooks  the 
port  of  Legue  and  the  tossing  expanse  of  the 
Bay  of  St.  Brieuc.  He  left  four  children, 
two  sons  and  two  daughters.   One,  Gabrielle, 


io  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

became  a  nun,  and  died  not  long  ago,  a  sister 
of  the  Sacre  Cceur  de  Jesus.  The  other 
married,  when  no  longer  young,  a  Mons.  du 
Rumain.  This  worthy  couple  never  showed 
any  great  tenderness  for  their  nephew,  either 
during  his  life  or  after  his  death.  The 
youngest  brother,  Victor,  entered  the  priest- 
hood very  early  in  life.  He  was  a  wise  and 
saintly  man.  He  refused  all  honours,  and 
would  never  leave  the  poor  parish  of  Plou- 
milliau,  of  which  he  was  for  half  a  century 
the  devoted  rector.  His  nephew  has  dedi- 
cated to  him  one  of  the  most  extraordinary 
of  his  tales,  "  L'Intersigne."  It  was  written 
in  1875  m  tne  presbytery  of  the  good  and 
simple  priest ;  and  the  sojourn  of  the  great 
and  unhappy  poet  (whose  life  at  that  time 
was  all  storm,  agitation,  and  care)  in  the 
peace  of  that  quiet  retreat,  inspired  him  with 
these  wonderful  lines,  which  none  who  knew 
and  loved  him  can  read  without  emotion  : 

"  The  rural  aspect  of  this  house,  with  its 
green-shuttered  windows,  its  three  stone  steps, 
its  tangle  of  ivy,  clematis,  and  tea-roses, 
covering  the  walls  and  reaching  the  roof 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  n 


(whence  a  little  cloud  of  smoke  escaped 
through  a  chimney  topped  by  a  vane),  in- 
spired me  with  a  feeling^of  calm,  of  well-being, 
of  profound  peace.  The  trees  of  a  neigh- 
bouring orchard  showed  through  the  trellised 
enclosure,  their  leaves  all  rusted  by  the  ex- 
hausting summer  heats.  The  two  windows 
of  the  only  storey  shone  with  the  western 
fire.  Between  them  was  a  hollow  niche 
holding  the  image  of  some  happy  saint. 
Silently  I  dismounted,  fastening  my  horse 
to  the  window-shutter,  and  as  I  raised 
the  knocker  I  cast  a  traveller's  glance  at 
the  horizon  behind  me.  But  so  brightly 
did  that  horizon  shine  over  the  wild  and 
distant  forests  of  oak  and  pine,  whither  the 
last  birds  were  winging  their  belated  way, 
so  solemnly  did  the  waters  of  a  distant  reed- 
covered  lake  refle6l  the  sky,  so  beautiful 
was  nature  in  the  calm  air  of  that  deserted 
spot,  at  that  moment  when  the  silence  falls, 
that  I  stood  mute,  the  knocker  still  dangling 
in  my  grasp.  '  O  thou ! '  I  thought,  '  who 
findest  not  the  refuge  of  thy  dreams,  and  to 
whom,  after  many  a  weary  march  'neath  cruel 


i2  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

stars — so  joyful  at  the  start,  so  saddened 
now — the  land  of  Canaan  with  its  palm-trees 
and  running  waters  comes  not  with  the  dawn. 
Heart  made  for  other  exile  than  that  whose 
bitterness  thou  sharest  with  brothers  who 
love  thee  not !  Behold,  here  mayst  thou  sit 
thee  down  upon  the  stone  of  melancholy — 
here  mayst  thou  dream  such  dreams  as  might 
haunt  thee  in  the  tomb,  wouldst  thou  truly 
desire  to  die  !  Come  hither,  then,  for  here 
the  sight  of  the  heavens  shall  transport  thee 
into  oblivion  V"  I  cite  this  passage,  not  only 
because  it  seems  to  me  to  be  exceedingly 
beautiful,  but  because  it  really  is  a  psycho- 
logical document — one  of  the  very  rare  in- 
stances in  which  a  writer  has  permitted  his 
published  work  to  reflect  his  personal  emo- 
tion. 

The  renunciation  of  the  world  by  the 
young  sister  and  brother  of  Villiers  was  not 
perhaps  altogether  the  result  of  an  irresistible 
vocation.  In  these  old  races,  the  family 
spirit  is  traditional,  and  the  sacrifice  of  the 
earthly  interest  of  its  younger  members  on 
the  altar  of  the  birthright  of  the  eldest,  is 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  13 

still  not  unfrequently  made.  However  this 
may  have  been,  the  Marquis  Joseph  de 
Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam,  Knight  of  the  Order 
of  Malta  "  de  la  Langue  de  France,"  remained 
in  consequence  of  that  fact  the  only  repre- 
sentative of  his  mighty  line.  He  obtained  a 
dispensation  from  the  Pope,  and  married 
Mdlle.  Marie  Francoise  le  Nepveu  de  Car- 
fort,  who  was  the  mother  of  our  Villiers. 
The  Marquis  de  ITsle  Adam  did  not  dero- 
gate from  his  dignity  by  allying  himself  with 
this  family.  The  knight  Roland  de  Carfort 
took  the  Cross  in  1248.  In  1370  Olivier 
de  Carfort  allied  himself  with  the  Dukes  of 
Brittany.  At  the  time  of  the  first  reform  of 
the  nobility  in  1669,  tne  De  Carfort  family 
proved  seven  generations.  It  appears  in  the 
registers  of  nobility  from  1425  to  1535,  for 
the  parishes  of  Cesson,  Le  Fceil,  St.  Turiaff, 
and  Plaintel,  in  the  bishopric  of  St.  Brieuc. 
The  Nepvou,  or  Le  Nepveu,  were  lords  of 
Carfort,  Beruen,  La  Roche,  Crenan,  Du  Clos, 
La  Cour,  La  Ville  Anne,  Lescouet,  and  La 
Coudraye.  They  bore  as  arms,  "  De  gueules 
a  six  billettes  d'argent,  3, 2, 1  au  chef  de  meme." 


14  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

I  ask  indulgence  for  my  long  dissertation 
on  these  genealogical  details.  There  was 
but  one  weak  spot  in  the  coat  of  mail  woven 
of  pride  and  haughty  scorn  with  which  Vil- 
liers  endued  himself  before  he  descended 
into  the  terrible  lists  of  life.  The  polished 
vipers  of  the  boulevards,  the  jealous  carrion- 
crows  of  literature,  knew  well  that  to  poison 
and  wound  this  invulnerability,  their  bites  and 
their  beak-thrusts  must  be  directed  against 
his  family  pride.  They  did  not  fail  to  do  it ! 
His  right  to  everything  was  disputed,  ances- 
tors, nobility,  his  very  name  !  Villiers  used  to 
roar  like  a  lion  stung  by  poisonous  flies. 
But  good,  clear,  precise  proofs  are  worth 
more  to  the  actual  public  than  the  loudest 
roars,  and  if  in  that  country  beyond  the  grave 
he  still  troubles  concerning  trivial  earthly 
matters,  he  will  rejoice  that  his  Breton  cousin 
has  endeavoured  to  establish  incontestably 
his  relationship  with  those  heroes  of  the  sword 
from  whom,  himself  a  hero  of  the  pen,  he  so 
worthily  descended. 

Unfortunately,  it  is  possible  to  be  at  the 
same  time  exceedingly  well-born  and  exces- 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  15 

sively  poor ;  and  Mdlle.  de  Carfort  was  no 
richer  than  the  marquis.  Nevertheless,  thanks 
to  an  old  aunt,  Mdlle.  Daniele  Kerinou,  who 
had  adopted  her  and  who  possessed  a  modest 
competence;  thanks,  too,  to  some  remnants  of 
fortune,  and  to  the  fabulous  cheapness  of  life 
in  Brittany  in  those  days,  the  household 
might  have  lived  with  dignity,  dividing  the 
year  between  the  modest  residence  on  the 
sea-coast  and  the  little  old  house  in  the  Rue 
Houvenagues  at  St.  Brieuc.  But  the  singular 
disposition  and  the  perilous  whimsicality  of 
the  head  of  the  family  spoilt  everything. 

I  do  not  believe  that  there  has  ever  existed 
either  in  reality  or  in  fiction  a  character  more 
extraordinary  than  that  of  the  father  of  Villiers. 
To  depict  it,  even  approximately,  would  need 
all  the  raciness  of  Dickens,  all  the  profound 
power  of  observation  of  Balzac.  And  besides, 
I  should  be  carried  too  far  by  the  subject. 
I  will  content  myself,  therefore,  with  sketching 
one  salient  trait  of  this  wonderfully  original 
man.  The  Marquis  de  l'lsle  Adam  was 
possessed  with  an  effulgent  dazzling  vision  of 
gold.    His  son  was  haunted  in  the  same  way, 


16  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

and  he  has  thus  described  himself  in  one  of 
his  novels  :  "  My  sole  inheritance,  alas  !  has 
consisted  in  his  dazzling  hopes  and  dreams ! 
Indifferent  to  the  political  cares  of  the  century 
and  of  the  Fatherland — indifferent,  too,  to  the 
temporary  results  of  the  criminal  failures  of 
their  representatives — I  linger  to  gaze  upon 
the  reddening  crests  of  the  neighbouring 
forest ;  instinctively,  though  why  I  know  not, 
I  shun  the  ill-omened  moonlight  and  the 
noxious  presence  of  my  fellow-men.  Yes,  I 
shun  them !  For  I  feel  that  I  bear  in  my 
soul  the  reflected  glory  of  the  barren  wealth 
of  many  a  forgotten  king." 

But  whereas  the  writer  found  in  the  exer- 
cise of  his  art  an  outlet  for  his  besetting  idea, 
and  a  defence  against  its  allurements,  the 
marquis  formed  the  wild  project  of  realizing 
his  visions  by  becoming  a  man  of  business. 
And  a  singular  business  man  was  he — this 
tall,  thin  marquis  !  Always  in  the  clouds — full 
of  morgue,  and  haughty  as  a  descendant  of  the 
"  Porte  Oriflamme  of  France  "  might  well  be  ; 
gifted,  truly,  with  an  all-devouring  activity, 
but  spending  it  all  in  placing  shares  in  the 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  17 

most  chimerical  of  undertakings  !  He  asserted, 
and  with  some  show  of  reason,  that  during 
the  Revolution,  and  the  troublous  times  that 
ensued,  many  inheritances  were  wrongly  as- 
signed to  people  who  had  no  right  to  them, 
and  this  to  the  detriment  of  the  real  heirs. 
On  this  supposition  his  principal  speculation 
depended.  He  undertook,  in  consideration 
of  a  certain  percentage,  to  have  restored  to 
the  injured  families  the  properties  which  were 
theirs  by  right  This  brilliant  project  once 
formed,  the  marquis  went  forth,  beating  up 
the  country  in  every  direction,  searching 
private  libraries,  public  archives,  and  church 
registers  ;  talking  to  old  people,  and  accumu- 
lating a  formidable  mass  of  information. 
Then,  when  he  considered  himself  sufficiently 
armed,  apprizing  those  who  were  most  inte- 
rested. Some,  seduced  by  the  hope  of  gain, 
allowed  themselves  to  be  tempted,  and  after 
long  and  expensive  litigation,  ended  by  con- 
signing the  marquis  and  his  imaginary  in- 
heritances to  all  the  gods  of  Erebus.  This 
discoverer  of  doubtful  inheritances  soon  be- 
came the  terror  of  every  attorney,  lawyer, 


1 8  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


and  sheriffs'  officer  in  Lower  Brittany.  For 
his  haughty  self-confidence  carried  him  every- 
where, into  every  office,  every  agency ;  and 
his  cool  pride,  his  aristocratic  ways,  and  his 
illustrious  name,  awed  the  worthy  scriveners 
of  a  remote  province,  where  people  are  still 
simple  enough  to  respecf  certain  things.  It 
will  easily  be  conceived  that  such  under- 
takings and  the  failure  which  generally  crowned 
them,  far  from  augmenting  the  redoubtable 
marquis's  income,  made  fresh  gaps  in  his 
patrimony. 

And  the  second  speculation  undertaken  by 
this  astonishing  person  was  as  fantastic  as 
the  first.  Dreaming,  as  he  did  incessantly, 
of  delusive  treasure,  he  soon  began  to  imagine 
that  it  existed  elsewhere  than  in  his  own 
fancy.  He  persuaded  himself  that  the  soil  of 
old  Armorica  concealed  subterranean  caves, 
mute  guardians  of  the  fabulous  riches  placed 
in  them  by  former  generations  in  times  of 
trouble  and  civil  war. 

Where,  for  example,  was  the  huge  fortune 
of  the  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  which  had 
enabled  them  to  take  rank  amongst  the  most 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  19 

gorgeous  courtiers  of  France  ?  The  seeker 
of  inheritances  became  a  treasure  seeker,  and 
set  himself  to  work  with  the  same  ardour 
and  conviction  as  heretofore.  In  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Quintin  stood  the  ruins  of  an 
old  castle,  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  the 
Villiers  de  Flsle  Adam.  The  marquis  bought 
a  concession,  hired  labourers,  and  set  about 
his  researches.  I  know  not  whether  he  had 
discovered  in  his  family  archives,  some  proof, 
or  even  any  vague  indication,  which  might 
lead  to  success.  His  son  was  convinced  he 
had.  He  has  spoken  to  me  very  seriously 
and  eloquently  of  this  treasure,  buried  for 
centuries ;  he  has  shown  me  the  plan  of  the 
subterranean  hiding-place,  and  he  endeavoured 
to  find  capitalists  to  assist  his  father  in  com- 
pleting his  excavations. 

Fortunately  money  was  not  to  be  had,  and 
Villiers,  not  having  been  able  to  carry  out 
this  dream  in  a  practical  way,  has  realized  it 
in  a  wonderful  manner  in  one  of  his  most 
powerful  works.  I  speak  of  the  book  entitled 
"  Le  Vieux  de  la  Montagne,"  the  full  and 
complete  manuscript  of  which  I  have  held 


2o  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

in  my  hands.  This  drama,  according  to  the 
poet's  design,  should  have  immediately  fol- 
lowed that  of  "  Axel,"  of  which  it  is  the 
continuation,  as  "  The  Adoration  of  the 
Magi "  is  the  conclusion. 


CHAPTER  II. 


Birth  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam — His  baptism — His 
childhood — Stolen  by  mountebanks — School  life 
— St.  Brieuc — Laval — Rennes — His  first  poem — 
His  early  portrait — "L'Amour  et  la  Mort5' — Elegy — 
Literary  plans — Family  devotion  and  tenderness — 
"  Our  Matthias  " — Departure  for  Paris. 

HILE  her  husband  was  thus  spend- 
ing himself  in  a  feverish  and  ruinous 
activity,  the  gentle  and  delicate 
marquise  lived  sadly  on  at  home 
in  the  company  of  her  good  aunt  Kerinou. 
The  existence  of  these  two  women  was  solitary 
and  sad,  the  anxiety  which  the  undertakings 
of  the  head  of  the  family  caused  Mdme.  de 
Flsle  Adam  alone  breaking  its  monotony; 
but  a  fervent  piety,  a  rare  gentleness  of  soul, 
and  a  strong  hope  in  the  goodness  of  God, 
supported  her  through  life.     Her  faith  was  at 


22  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

last  rewarded,  and  God  granted  her  most 
ardent  desire,  by  sending  her  in  November, 
1838,  a  son  who  was  the  joy,  the  belief,  the 
hope,  and  the  pride  of  her  simple  existence. 
Never  did  a  great  artist  have  a  more  admir- 
able mother  !  During  her  long  life  she  never 
wavered  once  in  her  faith  in  him,  and  in  his 
genius.  She  believed  in  her  son  with  the  same 
simple  trust  with  which  she  believed  in  her  God. 

It  is  easy  to  conceive  with  what  joy  the 
advent  of  this  child  was  hailed  by  these  two 
lonely  women.  Here  was  a  being  to  love,  to 
cherish,  to  bring  up — sunshine  breaking  in 
upon  the  monotony  of  their  darkness.  The 
marquis,  too,  was  radiant  as  he  gazed  on  this 
offshoot  of  the  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam.  Here 
was  someone  who  would  restore  the  glory  of 
the  old  race.  Ah!  he  would  endow  his  son 
with  fabulous  wealth.  He  would  force  the 
earth  to  render  up  the  treasure  hidden  in 
its  breast !  Back  he  went  to  his  excava- 
tions, the  marquise  and  her  aunt  seeing  him 
depart  this  time  with  less  regret,  for  hope  and 
consolation  smiled  on  the  two  good  women 
from  the  baby's  cradle. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  23 

The  Bishop  of  St.  Brieuc  stood  godfather 
to  the  new-comer,  and  baptized  him,  28th 
November,  1838,  in  the  presence  of  his  grand- 
father, his  father,  and  Mdlle.  de  Kerinou. 
The  venerable  prelate  bestowed  on  his  godson 
his  own  Christian  name  of  Matthias. 

I  have  no  intention  of  following  step  by 
step  the  progress  of  the  childhood  of  Villiers  ; 
the  most  talented  biographers  of  famous  men 
have  seldom  succeeded  in  making  the  early 
years  of  their  heroes  interesting.  For  child- 
hood is  above  all  things  a  period  of  silent 
incubation,  during  which  soul  and  mind  are 
secretly  and  laboriously  developed.  One 
incident  of  these  first  years  spent  at  St.  Brieuc 
must,  however,  be  reported,  for  later  the  ima- 
gination of  Villiers  embroidered  it  with  fan- 
tastic details.  He  was  about  seven  years  old, 
when  his  nurse  lost  him  out  walking.  A 
band  of  strolling  mountebanks,  who  were 
going  to  Brest,  met  the  strayed  child,  and 
looking  on  the  sprightly  fair-haired  boy  as 
their  legitimate  prize,  laid  hands  on  him. 
Some  days  later  his  father  found  him  at  Brest 
in  the  booth  of  his  strolling  captors.    He  was 


24  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

already  the  pet  of  the  company,  and  there 
appeared  to  be  such  a  bond  of  affection 
between  the  chief  of  the  poor  rope-dancers 
and  the  boy,  that  the  marquis,  overjoyed  to 
get  back  his  son,  relinquished  all  idea  of  pro- 
secution. Those  who  were  acquainted  with 
Villiers  will  easily  imagine  what  wonderful 
and  humorous  tales  he  would  weave  out  of 
such  an  adventure.  It  was  worth  listening 
to,  when,  in  picturesque  style,  he  would  con- 
jure up  the  memories  of  the  two  years  he  had 
spent  amongst  those  admirable,  though  ill- 
favoured  gipsies,  visiting  successively  Italy, 
Germany,  the  Tyrol,  and  chivalrous  Hungary 
— rescued  and  restored  at  last  to  his  family 
through  the  devotion  of  a  beautiful  Romany 
lass,  the  last  descendant  of  a  time-honoured 
race,  etc.,  etc.  Villiers  began  his  education 
at  the  school  of  St.  Brieuc,  but  soon  after- 
wards continued  it  at  the  Lycee  at  Laval. 
There  his  genius  began  to  trouble  his  soul. 
The  divine  visions  of  poetry  hovered  round 
him,  the  breath  of  artistic  enthusiasm  fell 
glowing  on  his  brow,  and  his  first  verses  were 
written.    Between  whiles  he  concluded  his 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  25 

classical  studies,  which,  once  finished,  his 
family  settled  with  him  at  Rennes,  in  a  house 
in  the  Rue  de  Corbin.  At  this  time  Villiers 
de  l'lsle  Adam  was  seventeen  years  old,  and 
it  was  sufficient  to  see  him  for  a  few  moments 
to  be  convinced  of  his  vocation.  Inspiration 
beamed  on  his  full  pale  forehead,  it  sparkled 
in  his  discourse,  in  which  the  tumult  of  ideas 
pressed  disorderly  one  on  the  other,  trembled 
on  his  full  lips  already  curled  with  irony,  and 
filled  his  clear  blue  eyes  with  a  disturbing 
light.  His  large,  fair,  dishevelled  head,  his 
strange  gestures,  his  disorderly  style  of  dress, 
alarmed  the  correct  provincial  society,  of 
which,  by  the  way,  he  saw  but  little.  But 
those  few  privileged  mortals  who  entered  the 
magic  circle  of  his  intimacy,  remained  there 
fascinated  and  dazzled.  Villiers  already  pos- 
sessed that  extraordinary  magnetic  power 
which  he  preserved  all  his  life,  and  of  which 
every  friend  of  his  has  felt  the  influence.  The 
depth  of  thought  in  one  so  young  was  almost 
uncanny.  All  in  fact  he  needed,  at  the  time 
of  his  arrival  at  Rennes,  to  fit  him  to  pro- 
nounce his  vows  before  the  altar  of  art,  was 


26  VILLIERS  DE  I/ISLE  ADAM. 


that  his  heart  should  bleed  under  the  divine 
wound  of  love,  the  agonizing  consecration  of 
every  true  poet. 

It  was  amongst  the  green  fields  and  lanes 
of  Brittany  that  there  arose  for  him,  to  vanish 
almost  immediately  in  death,  that  tender  vision 
of  womanhood  which  was  his  fleeting,  but  his 
only  earthly  love.  She  was  one  of  those  en- 
trancing creatures,  of  whom  he  has  so  well 
said,  "  There  are  certain  helpmates  who  en- 
noble every  one  of  life's  joys,  certain  radiant 
maidens  whose  love  is  only  positively  given 
once.  Yes,  some  few  saintly  souls,  ideal  in 
their  dawning  beauty."  I  will  not  profane  the 
sacred  passion  of  these  two  young  hearts  by 
trying  to  describe  it.  I  will  only  say,  They 
loved,  and  she  died.  On  a  sudden,  suffering 
unfolded  and  spread  the  poet  s  budding  wings. 
In  an  artist's  youth,  all  his  feelings,  even 
sorrow,  turn  to  song,  and  so  it  was  with 
Villiers.  These  lines,  written  at  seventeen 
years  of  age  by  the  disdainful  scoffer  our 
generation  knew  so  well,  have  their  natural 
place  here,  marking,  as  they  do,  the  close  of 
the  child's  and  the  birth  of  the  artist's  existence. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  27 


L 

O  charmants  eglantiers  !  soleil,  rayon,  verdure  ! 
Frais  salut  que  la  terre  offre  dans  un  murmure 
De  zephirs  renaissants,  aux  coeurs  emplis  d'espoir, 
Bocage  encor  tout  plein  de  chastes  reveries, 
Six  mois  se  sont  passes  loin  de  vos  fleurs  cheries : 
J'avais  besoin  de  vous  revoir. 

Oh  !  vous  souvenez-vous,  foret  delicieuse, 
De  la  jolie  enfant  qui  passait  gracieuse, 
Souriant  simplement  au  ciel,  a  l'avenir, 
Se  perdant  avec  moi  dans  ces  vertes  allees  ? 
Eh  bien  !  parmi  les  lis  de  vos  sombres  vallees, 
Vous  ne  la  verrez  plus  venir. 

O  printemps  !  6  lilas  !  6  profondes  ramees  ! 
Comme  autrefois  vos  fleurs,  qu'elle  avait  tant  aimees, 
Sous  vos  senders  deserts  exhalent  leurs  amours ; 
I/aubepine  s'enlace  au  banc  de  la  charmille, 
L'oiseau  chante,  le  ciel  est  bleu,  le  soleil  brille  : 
Rien  n'a  change  dans  les  beaux  jours  ! 

Silencieux  vallon  !  cela  n'etait  qu'un  reve, 
Un  songe  radieux  qui  maintenant  s'acheve 
Et  ne  laisse  apres  lui  qu'un  amer  souvenir  .  .  . 
Ne  me  demandez  pas  ce  qu'elle  est  devenue, 
La  pauvre  jeune  fille  en  ce  monde  venue 
Pour  consoler  et  pour  mourir  ! 

Morte  !  et  je  suis  encore  en  proie  a  l'existence  ! 
C'est  done  cela  la  vie  ?  Et  deja  mon  enfance 
A-t-elle  disparu  loin  de  ce  cceur  brise  ? 


28  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


Seigneur,  vous  etes  grand,  mais  vous  etes  severe  ! 
Ainsi  me  voila  seul :  c'est  fini  sur  la  terre ; 
Cela  s'appelle  :  "  le  Passe." 

II. 

Helas  !  je  me  souviens.    Les  vents  au  sein  des  ombres, 
Du  fleuve  harmonieux  plissaient  les  vagues  sombres ; 
Les  chants  ailes  du  soir  s'etaient  evanouis ; 
Et  la  lune,  en  glissant  parmi  les  blancs  nuages, 
Souvent  illuminait  les  teintes  des  feuillages 
Du  clair  obscur  des  belles  nuits. 

Le  rossignol,  cache  sous  Tepaisse  feuillee, 
Modulait  les  soupirs  de  sa  chanson  perlee, 
Les  fleurs,  dans  leurs  parfums,  s'endormaient  a  leur  tour 
Et  comme  deux  rayons  reunissent  leur  flamme, 
Tous  deux  nous  unissions  nos  ames  dans  une  ame, 
Et  nos  deux  cceurs  dans  notre  amour. 

Comme  son  joli  pied  se  posait  sur  la  mousse  ! 
Comme  sa  chevelure  etait  soyeuse  et  douce  ! 
Nous  allions,  enlaces,  sous  les  hauts  peupliers ; 
Elle  avait  dix-sept  ans;  j'avais  cet  age  a  peine, 
Souvent  le  rossignol  retenait  son  haleine 
En  ecoutant  nos  pas  legers. 

Et  moi  je  contemplais  mon  amante  pensive, 
Et  nous  nous  en  allions,  seuls,  aupres  de  la  rive. 
Sa  main  sur  mon  epaule  et  le  front  sur  ma  main ; 
Et  les  fremissements  de  la  nuit  solitaire 
Emportaient  dans  les  cieux,  ainsi  qu'une  priere, 
Tous  les  doux  songes  du  chemin. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  29 


III. 

Puis,  le  reveil !  la  mort !  l'existence  qui  change  ! 
O  temps  !  vieillard  glace  !  qu'as-tu  fait  de  mon  ange  ? 
Ou  Tas-tu  mise,  helas  !  et  froide  et  pour  toujours? 
Qu'as-tu  fait  de  l'enfant  jeune  et  pleine  de  charmes, 
Qu'as-tu  fait  du  sourire  et  qu'as-tu  fait  des  larmes, 
Oh  !  qu'as-tu  fait  de  nos  amours? 

IV. 

Voyez  comme  les  fleurs  viennent  bien  pres  des  tombes  ! 
On  dirait  un  bouquet  que  les  jeunes  colombes, 
Retournant  au  pays,  nous  laissent  pour  adieu. 
— Qu'avait-elle  done  fait  pour  mourir  la  premiere  ? 
Est-ce  un  crime  de  vivre  ?  et  l'amour,  sur  la  terre, 
N'est-il  pas  le  pardon  de  Dieu  ? 

Ne  me  souriez  plus,  6  campagne  immortelle  ! 
Je  suis  seul  maintenant ;  si  ce  n'etait  pour  elle, 
Je  n'avais  pas  besoin  de  vos  fraiches  beautes ; 
N'ai-je  pas  vu  l'abime  011  tombent  toutes  choses  ? 
Les  lis  meurent  dans  l'ombre  ou  se  fanent  les  roses  : 
Les  cypres  seuls  restent  plantes. 

Elle  est  sous  les  cypres,  la  pale  jeune  femme  ! 
Mon  amour  triste  et  fler  brule  encor  dans  mon  ame, 
Comme  une  lampe  d'or  veille  sur  le  cercueil. 
Mais  je  ne  pleure  plus  :  la  douleur  a  ses  charmes. 
Et  d'ailleurs,  6  mon  Dieu,  mes  yeux  n'ont  plus  de  larmes, 
Et  mon  cceur  seul  porte  le  deuil. 


3o  VILLIERS  DE  LTSLE  ADAM. 


I. 

O  lovely  eglantine  !  O  sunlit  glades  ! 

Fresh  greeting  offered  by  the  murmuring  earth 

On  circling  breezes  to  all  hopeful  hearts, 

Since  last  I  saw  those  fair  and  much-loved  flowers, 

Which  yet  fill  all  your  memory-haunted  groves, 

Six  weary  months  have  passed, 

And  I  have  longed  to  look  on  you  again  ! 

Dost  thou  remember,  Forest,  lovely  yet, 
The  pretty  graceful  child  who  wandered  by, 
Smiling  her  simple  faith  in  Heaven  and  Fate, 
And  straying  with  me  through  your  verdant  maze?- 
Alas  !  the  lilies  hidden  in  your  green  depths 
Shall  see  her  pass  no  more  ! 

O  spring-time  !  Lilacs  !  O  deep  greenwood  shades 
Your  flowers,  erstwhile  so  dear  to  her  sweet  soul, 
Still  shed  their  scent  o'er  your  deserted  paths, 
The  may  still  twines  the  bench  within  the  grove, 
Birds  sing,  the  sky  is  blue,  the  sun  still  shines, 

No  change  has  come  upon  your  summer-tide  ! 

Dumb  silent  valley  !   It  was  all  a  dream, 
A  radiant  dream,  too  soon,  alas  !  to  pass — 
And  leaving  but  a  bitter  sense  of  loss — 
Where  she  is  now,  I  pray  you,  ask  me  not ! 
That  sweet  young  creature,  sent  into  this  world 
To  comfort  others — then  herself  to  die  ! 

Dead  !  Can  it  be  ?  And  I  must  still  live  on  ! 
Is  this  Life's  fate  ?  And  has  my  youth  indeed 
Forsaken  for  ever  this  poor  broken  heart  ? 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


3i 


Lord,  Thou  art  just,  but  oh  !  Thou  strikest  hard  ! 
I  am  alone  !   I've  done  with  earthly  dreams  ! 

IVe  learnt  the  bitter  meaning  of  "  The  Past ! " 

II. 

Alas  !   I  see  it  still !   Out  of  the  shadowy  night 
The  gentle  river  flowed  in  darkly  rippling  waves ; 
Fallen  into  dreamless  sleep,  the  birds  had  hushed  their 
songs, 

The  moonbeams  creeping  slow  athwart  the  fleecy  clouds 
Touched  with  their  silver  light  the  dusk  and  massy  shades, 
Seen  through  the  twilight  of  the  lovely  night. 

The  nightingale  from  out  the  green  and  bosky  shade 
Sighed  forth  his  passion  in  his  pearly-throated  song, 
The  flowers  had  bowed  their  heads  in  deep  and  perfumed 
sleep, 

And  we,  whose  souls  were  joined  as  though  in  one  sun  ray, 
Could  feel  our  happy  hearts  beating  in  one  great 
love  ! 

How  firm  her  dainty  step  upon  the  mossy  path  ! 
How  silken  and  how  soft  the  masses  of  her  hair ! 
As  arm  in  arm  we  walked  'neath  the  tall  poplar  trees, 
(She  was  but  seventeen,  and  I  was  hardly  more,) 
Often  the  nightingale  would  seem  to  hold  his  breath, 
To  listen  to  our  lightly  falling  steps. 

And  how  I  loved  to  gaze  upon  her  thoughtful  face, 
As  far  along  the  bank  we  wandered  all  alone, 
My  shoulder  'neath  her  hand,  while  mine  caressed  her 
brow, 


32  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


And  all  the  rustlings  of  the  lovely  night 
Carried  to  Heaven,  as  though  they  were  a  prayer, 
The  sweet  and  dreamy  fancies  of  the  hour  ! 

III. 

Then,  with  Death's  awful  change,  the  sad  awakening 
came  ! 

0  hoary-headed  Time  !  Where  hast  thou  hid  my  love? 
For  ever  cold  and  still,  ah  !  whither  is  she  gone  ? 
That  child,  so  full  of  life,  of  young  resistless  charm, 
Where  is  her  magic  smile  ?  and  where  her  melting  tears? 

And  where  the  vanished  glory  of  our  loves  ? 

IV. 

Mark  now,  how  lush  the  flowers  grow  near  a  tomb ! 
Just  like  the  nosegays  some  young  turtle  doves 
Might  leave  for  farewell  offering,  ere  they  fly 
Into  their  native  country  !    Why  should  she  die  first  ? 
Is  life  a  crime?   And  is  not  earthly  love 
God's  own  forgiveness  ? 

Smile  then  no  more,  O  immortal  country  fields  ! 

1  stand  henceforth  alone.    And  it  was  but  for  her 

That  your  fresh  blooming  beauty  seemed  so  sweet  to  me  ! 
Have  I  not  plumbed  the  depths  which  ingulf  all  earthly 
hope  ? 

The  lilies  wither,  and  the  roses  fade  away 

Beneath  the  shadows  which  the  cypress  loves  ! 

Beneath  the  cypress  sleeps  that  woman  young  and  pale, 
My  sad  and  faithful  love  still  burns  within  my  soul, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  33 


Like  to  the  golden  lamp  which  burns  before  a  corpse. 
But  I  can  weep  no  more,  in  spite  of  sorrow's  charm, 
And  this,  O  Lord,  is  why :  My  eyes  have  no  more 
tears, 

And  my  heart  hides  its  lonely  misery  ! 

Villiers  never  loved  truly,  deeply,  in- 
genuously, but  this  once.  No  other  woman 
ever  took  in  his  existence  the  place  of  the 
gentle,  dead  Breton  girl.  His  imagination 
may  have  been  swept  away  by  the  rustle  of 
some  passing  robe,  his  senses  may  have  been 
captivated,  his  artistic  feeling  interested,  by 
the  charm  of  the  perturbing  mystery  which 
surrounds  the  eternal  problem  of  the  softer 
sex,  but  the  poet's  heart  remained  untouched, 
impregnable,  proud,  wrapped  up  in  its  sad 
fidelity  to  that  early  memory. 

This  first  terrible  experience  of  sorrow 
hastened  the  prodigiously  rapid  intellectual 
development  of  the  young  writer.  He  sought 
and  found  refuge  in  excessive  activity,  and 
Inspiration,  great  and  radiant  consoler,  illu- 
mined his  mind  and  beamed  upon  his  heart. 
Vast  conceptions,  gigantic  projects,  such  as 
are  always  formed  by  youthful  artists,  en- 

D 


34  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

veloped  his  spirit  with  their  luxuriant  growth. 
In  this  one  year,  he  conceives  the  idea  of  a 
drama,  "  Morgane,"  impressed  with  a  melan- 
choly splendour  ;  he  plans  a  wonderful  trilogy, 
which  eventually,  under  the  three  titles  of 
"  Axel,"  "  L'Adoration  des  Mages,"  and  "  Le 
Vieux  de  la  Montagne,"  will  become  the  chief 
work,  the  crowning  point  of  his  existence  as 
a  thinker;  he  imagines  his  mysterious  novel, 
"  Isis,"  and,  above  all,  he  pours  forth  in  lines 
pulsating  with  life  and  glow,  all  the  tumultuous 
grief  of  his  tortured  and  sorrow-laden  soul  ! 

During  this  period,  while  his  genius  was  agi- 
tatedly beating  her  wings  like  a  captive  eagle, 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  found  at  the  home- 
fireside  constant  encouragement,  unceasing 
sympathy,  and  immeasurable  tenderness ! 
There  is  something  admirably  touching  and 
rare  in  this  worship  of  him  by  his  own  people 
in  his  early  days.  Generally  the  youth  of 
an  artist  is  darkened  by  the  ill-will,  the  in- 
stinctive mistrust  of  art,  the  narrow-minded- 
ness, the  love  of  lucre,  of  his  family.  In  the 
case  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  the  contrary 
was  the  fact.    The  mother,  the  old  aunt,  the 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  35 

treasure-seeking  marquis,  disagreeing  in  all 
else,  formed  a  perfect  union  when  it  was  a 
question  of  singing  the  praises  of  "  their 
Matthias."  They  lauded  him,  they  exalted 
him  on  to  a  pedestal.  His  vocation,  his 
genius,  the  certainty  of  his  success,  of  his 
future  glory,  were  so  many  articles  of  faith  to 
them.    And  they  proved  it. 

Persuaded  that  Paris  was  the  only  stage 
worthy  of  the  great  part  which  their  Matthias 
was  called  to  enact,  convinced  that  it  was 
their  own  absolute  duty  to  sacrifice  every- 
thing in  order  that  the  genius  of  the  family 
might  expand  in  full  freedom,  these  admirable 
souls,  at  the  very  sight  of  whom  the  self- 
important  bourgeois  smiled  and  shrugged 
their  shoulders,  resolved  to  sell  everything, 
to  realize  their  little  fortune,  and,  their  small 
purse  in  hand,  to  go  and  await  in  some  out-of- 
the-way  corner  in  the  formidable  town  the 
final  victory  of  the  last  of  the  Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam,  who,  according  to  their  childlike 
faith,  was  with  brain  and  pen  to  reconquer 
for  them  the  fortune  and  the  celebrity  which 
their  ancestors  had  won  by  blood  and  sword  ! 


36  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

All  hastened  to  the  rescue.  The  nun  of 
the  Sacred  Heart,  the  abbe,  the  old  aunt — 
the  marquis  was  indefatigable  in  calling  in 
his  funds ;  he  sold  at  an  enormous  loss,  but 
without  a  shadow  of  regret,  his  little  manor- 
house  at  Legue  and  the  old  residence  at  St. 
Brieuc.  He  abandoned  the  excavations  for 
ten  treasures,  and  the  search  for  half  a  hundred 
inheritances,  and  following  his  son,  accom- 
panied by  his  wife,  and  having  in  tow  the  old 
aunt,  who  would  not  be  left  behind,  he  started 
for  Paris,  to  the  cry  of  "  Dieu  le  volt!"  (It 
is  God's  will !)  with  the  same  confidence  in 
which  his  crusader  ancestors  had  departed  to 
Jerusalem. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Paris — The  reign  of  the  common-place  in  literature — 
The  poets — The  defenders  of  the  Beautiful — "  Le  Par- 
nasse  Contemporain  " — "  Les  Parnassiens" — Catulle 
Mendes  and  the  "  Revue  Fantaisiste  " — Triumphal 
entry  of  Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam — First  Poems — 
Friendships — Stephane  Mallarmeand  Leon  Dierx — 
"Claire  Lenoir" — Appearance  of  Dr.  Triboulat  Bon- 
homet — A  few  words  touching  this  personage — "  Le 
Roman  d'une  Nuit,"  by  Catulle  Mendes — Death  of 
the  "Revue Fantaisiste  "—The  Blue  Dragon  Hotel— 
The  Rue  de  Douai — Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam,  accord- 
ing to  Francois  Coppee. 

T  the  time  of  the  exodus  of  Villiers 
and  his  family,  Paris  had  become, 
from  the  artistic  and  literary  point 
of  view,  the  paradise  of  the  com- 
mon-place. The  gods  of  this  Olympus  were 
composers  of  operettas,  manufacturers  of 
serial  novels,  historiographers  of  the  latest 
scandals,  poets  of  the  drawing-room,  of  the 


38  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

boudoir,  nay,  of  the  cafe  concerts.  All  these 
lived  and  fattened  on  their  trade,  honoured, 
and  almost  celebrated,  clinging  to  the  title  of 
artist,  yet  ignorant  of,  or  despising,  the  pri- 
mordial rules  of  art.  The  censure,  which 
smiled  sanctimoniously  on  the  short  skirts 
and  sprightly  whims  of  the  Offenbach  School, 
could  never  be  severe  enough  on  truly  artistic 
and  conscientious,  work.  It  was  the  epoch  of 
the  ridiculous  prosecution  of  the  author  of 
"  Madame  Bovary,"  and  of  the  sentence 
against  Baudelaire. 

As  for  those  poets  who  pursued  their 
divine  chimera  with  fervour  and  disinterested- 
ness, no  jest  was  reckoned  too  coarse,  no  insult 
in  too  bad  taste,  to  be  thrown  in  their  faces. 
The  press  was  perpetually  sharpening  the 
arrows  of  its  keenest  satire,  wherewith  to 
pierce  whomsoever  aspired  to  any  great  ideal. 
Victor  Hugo,  exiled  as  he  was,  alone  suc- 
ceeded in  stirring  the  masses  to  their  depths. 
In  the  face  of  all  this  opprobrium,  the  last 
survivors  of  the  admirable  phalanx  of  romantic 
poets  had  wrapped  themselves  in  scornful 
silence.     Emile  Deschamps  lay  dying  ob- 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  39 

scurely  in  the  dreary  town  of  Versailles,  he, 
the  author  of  the  "  Romanceros,"  rhyming 
sickly  madrigals  to  Chloris  ;  while  the  divine 
Theophile  Gautier,  the  illustrious  hero  of  the 
first  performance  of  "  Hernani,"  cast  the  last 
blossoms  of  his  astonishing  intellect  on  the 
common  track  of  the  newspaper  feuilleton. 
Poetry  and  art  seemed  in  truth  to  be  dead, 
stifled  by  the  triumph  of  materialistic  stupidity. 
But  poetry  and  art  are  as  immortal  as  the 
starry  heavens,  and  at  the  very  moment  in 
which  they  seemed  to  lie  in  their  last  agony, 
they  were  silently  making  ready  to  spread 
their  vigorous  limbs  and  soar  with  lofty 
flight  into  the  blue  realms  of  the  ideal ! 

Certain  youths,  very  young  and  poor, 
banded  together  in  the  same  faith,  the  same 
deep  and  passionate  love  of  the  beautiful,  the 
same  lively  hatred  of  the  common-place  and 
the  vulgar,  formed  the  bold  project  of  revolt- 
ing, weak  and  almost  defenceless  as  they 
were,  against  this  formidable  tyranny  of  folly 
and  mediocrity.  They  resolved  to  defend 
the  sacred  domain  of  literature  with  all  their 
young  strength  against  the  invasion  which 


40  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

threatened  it ;  to  proclaim  the  power  of 
rhythm,  the  respecl;  that  is  due  to  syntax,  to 
affirm,  in  short,  that  no  work  can  be  really 
artistic  without  a  constant  jealousy  for  form. 
The  critics  of  the  chief  newspapers,  the 
chroniclers  of  the  small  ones,  drew  upon  their 
usual  arsenal  of  gibes  and  jeers,  and  old  jokes 
turned  out  as  new,  to  scoff  down  these  rash 
youths.  They  were  given  strange  nicknames, 
"  Formists,"  "Stylists,"  "  Fantaisistes,"  "  Im- 
passibles.,,  Songs  were  made  about  them, 
they  were  caricatured,  made  to  play  the  parts 
of  idiots  in  the  "  Revues  "  at  the  end  of  each 
year,  and  to  conclude,  when  a  young  pub- 
lisher, who  (thanks  to  his  lucky  daring)  had 
become  a  millionaire,  ventured  to  publish  the 
first  number  of  their  collected  poems,  "  Le 
Parnasse  Contemporain,"  they  were  held  up 
to  public  laughter  and  indignation  as  "  Les 
Parnassiens  "  (the  Parnassians). 

All  this  rage,  however,  far  from  crushing 
these  chivalrous  young  votaries  of  the  ideal, 
filled  their  hearts  with  fresh  courage.  In  spite 
of  jests  and  insults,  they  pursued  their  course, 
and  what  is  still  more  admirable  and  touching, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  41 

pursued  it  in  spite  of  the  direst  poverty.  Of 
them,  as  of  every  artist,  posterity  has  been 
the  true  judge ;  and  it  has  sent  back  to  their 
native  obscurity  those  who,  from  the  heights 
of  their  brilliant  existence,  made  game  of  the 
poor  little  feverish-eyed,  shabby-coated  poets. 
Where  are  now  the  names  of  those  sparkling 
and  witty  quill-drivers,  who  poured  forth  their 
sarcasms  on  the  obscure  Parnassians  ?  And, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  names  of  these  same 
Parnassians,  are  they  not  now  familiar  to  us 
all  ?  To  cite  only  the  chief  among  them,  have 
we  not  Francois  Coppee,  Sully  Prudhomme, 
Alphonse  Daudet,  Leon  Cladel,  Glatigny, 
Catulle  Mendes,  and  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  ? 

Res  miranda!  The  first  publication  of  these 
new  representatives  of  "la  jeune  France" 
was  not  a  collection  of  verses,  it  was  just 
simply  a  review  in  which  prose  and  poetry 
joyously  alternated.  Gaily  covered,  cheerful 
in  tone,  with  an  attractive  and  well-sounding 
title,  its  editor  was  nineteen  years  old,  and  it 
had  not  a  contributor  who  counted  more  than 
five-and- twenty  summers.  In  short,  it  was 
the  "  Revue  Fantaisiste,"  whose  director  was 


42  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

a  native  of  Bordeaux,  newly  arrived  in  Paris, 
poor  as  Job  and  handsome  as  Apollo,  by 
name  Catulle  Mendes.  The  offices  of  this 
review  were  in  the  Passage  Mires,  now 
Passage  des  Princes.  Here  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  broke  his  first  lance,  and  my  readers 
will  doubtless  appreciate  this  quotation  from 
a  little  known  but  amusing  work,  in  which 
the  former  director  of  the  "  Revue  Fantaisiste  " 
has  presented,  in  a  style  at  once  witty  and 
feeling,  the  picture  of  the  home  of  the  "  Par- 
nasse  Contemporain  "  : — 

"  The  office  was  a  somewhat  strange-look- 
ing place ;  hangings  of  green  and  rose- 
coloured  chintz,  like  a  smiling  meadow,  seemed 
to  gaze  in  wonder  at  the  mahogany  cupboards 
and  tables.  A  lounge  (seldom  unoccupied) 
at  the  back  of  the  room  appeared  to  sulk  at 
the  leathern  arm-chair  and  the  cardboard 
manuscript  cases.  It  was  half  drawing-room, 
and  would  fain  have  been  all  boudoir ! 

"  Hither,  every  afternoon,  towards  three 
o'clock,  came  Theodore  de  Banville,  giving 
us  freely,  with  the  good-nature  of  a  youthful 
maestro,  his  intoxicating  mixture  of  Orpheus 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  43 

and  Balzac,  at  one  and  the  same  time  so  lyric 
and  so  truly  Parisian ;  Charles  Asselineau, 
with  his  long  soft  hair  already  grey,  and  on 
his  lips  that  smile,  tender  though  ironic,  which 
none  but  Nodier  ever  had  before  him  ;  Leon 
Golzan,  who  graciously  vouchsafed  us  the 
support  of  his  name ;  Charles  Monselet, 
Jules  Noriac,  Philoxene  Boyer,  dreaming  of 
Shakespeare,  and  Charles  Baudelaire,  slight, 
elegant,  a  little  stealthy,  almost  alarming  with 
his  half-frightened  air,  gracefully  haughty, 
with  the  attraction  and  charm  of  beauty  in 
distress,  rather  like  a  very  delicate  bishop, 
somewhat  fallen  away  from  grace  perhaps, 
who  had  donned  an  elaborate  lay  costume  for 
travelling  purposes :  '  His  Eminence  Mon- 
seignor  Beau  Brummel ! '  He  used  to  bring 
us  those  wonderful  prose  poems,  which  are 
numbered  now  amongst  the  most  perfect 
pages  in  French  literature.  There,  too,  Albert 
Glatigny,  with  his  vagrant  flow  of  speech, 
hand  on  hip,  his  necktie  undone,  his  waistcoat 
too  short,  and  obstinately  ignorant  of  braces, 
smiling  like  some  young  faun,  wearied  out  by 
the  tendernesses  of  the  nymphs,  would  recite 


44  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

to  us  those  amorous  strophes  of  his,  whose 
rhymes  seem  to  re-echo  the  sound  of  kisses." 

It  was  in  this  abode,  with  its  strange  charm, 
where  the  three  twin  sisters,  Youth,  Poetry, 
and  Poverty,  seemed  to  have  met  together, 
that  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  made  his  entry 
into  the  world  of  letters.  He  presented  him- 
self, almost  immediately  on  his  arrival  in 
Paris,  his  pockets  stuffed  with  his  family 
parchments  and  his  own  manuscript  com- 
positions. At  the  very  outset  he  took  the 
office  by  storm,  and  he  soon  became  one  of 
the  chief  editors  of  the  "  Revue  Fantaisiste." 
The  brilliant  apparition  of  the  last  descendant 
of  the  Grand  Master  of  the  Knights  of  Malta 
has  often  been  described  in  enthusiastic  terms 
by  those  who  were  eye-witnesses  of  it.  "  He 
impressed  us,"  says  M.  Henri  Laujol,  "as 
being  the  most  magnificently  gifted  young 
man  of  his  generation."  Villiers  brought  with 
him  some  manuscript  poems,  which  were  pub- 
lished that  very  year  by  Scheuring  of  Lyons, 
with  much  luxury  of  paper  and  printing,  under 
the  title  of  "  Premieres  Poesies  "  (First  Poems). 
The  book  was  dedicated  to  the  Comte  Alfred 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  45 

de  Vigny.  In  this  collection  of  verse,  now 
hardly  to  be  found,  there  is  already  a  glimpse 
of  the  profound  original  thinker,  scornful  of 
all  conventionalism.  It  is  not,  to  be  sure,  by 
any  means  a  piece  of  perfection,  but  through 
its  uncertainties,  its  weaknesses,  its  gropings 
in  the  dark,  here  and  there,  as  in  "  Hermosa  " 
and  "  Le  Chant  du  Calvaire,"  there  beams 
the  flash  of  genius. 

These  first  years  of  Villiers  in  Paris  con- 
tain the  few  truly  happy  moments  of  a  life 
full  of  bitterness.  He  was  free,  then,  from 
the  anxiety  of  earning  his  daily  bread,  and 
when  he  left  the  family  circle,  where  he  was 
adored  like  a  deity,  he  met  everywhere,  on 
his  first  appearance,  with  an  enthusiastic  wel- 
come. The  originality  of  his  gestures  and 
demeanour,  and  his  profound,  passionate,  and 
picturesque  speech,  full  as  it  was  of  glowing 
imagery,  aroused  amongst  young  people  an 
admiration  which  amounted  to  fanaticism. 
He  was  the  spoiled  child  of  the  Parnassians, 
and  he  found  in  their  coterie  the  two  friends 
who,  through  all  the  trials  and  hardships,  and 
all  the  mortifications  of  his  life,  remained 


46  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

faithful  to  him  till  death,  and  after  it;  I 
speak  of  M.  Stephane  Mallarme  and  M. 
Leon  Dierx.  Every  friend  of  Villiers  must, 
like  myself,  vow  an  infinite  gratitude  to 
the  two  excellent-hearted  poets  who,  having 
supported  the  author  of  the  "  Nouveau 
Monde  "  in  the  hours  of  his  despondency  and 
darkest  poverty,  showed  him,  in  his  last  ill- 
ness, a  care,  a  delicate  tenderness,  a  devotion, 
and  a  disinterestedness,  which  the  tenderest 
woman  might  have  envied  them.  No  artist's 
existence,  even  in  the  direst  tribulation,  could 
be  completely  wretched,  while  brightened  and 
warmed  by  the  flame  of  such  sturdy  friendship. 

Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  made  his  dibut, 
then,  in  the  "  Revue  Fantaisiste,"  with  a  tale 
called  "  Claire  Lenoir,"  a  strange,  mysterious, 
terrifying  story.  What  makes  this  work 
peculiarly  interesting  to  us  is  that  in  it  there 
appears,  for  the  first  time,  a  character  which 
has  become  almost  legendary,  and  on  the 
creation  of  which  the  writer  worked  up  till 
the  end  of  his  life.  It  will  be  understood 
that  I  refer  to  the  striking  figure  of  Dr. 
Triboulat  Bonhomet,  the  personification  of 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  47 

the  scientific  and  atheistic  bourgeois — a 
monstrous  Prud'homme,  transcendently  fool- 
ish and  ferociously  egotistic.  In  drawing  his 
own  portrait,  Bonhomet  writes  this  sentence, 
which  seems  to  me  to  sum  up  the  original 
idea  of  his  author  :  "My  physiognomy  is  that 
of  my  century,  of  which  I  have  reason  to 
believe  myself  the  archetype ;  briefly,  I  am  a 
doctor,  a  philanthropist,  and  a  man  of  the 
world."  Again,  speaking  of  his  own  convic- 
tions, he  says :  "  My  religious  ideas  are 
limited  to  the  absurd  conviction  that  God  has 
created  man  in  His  own  image,  and  vice  versa." 
This  Dr.  Triboulat  Bonhomet  was  to  Villiers 
what  "le  garcon"  was  to  Flaubert :  a  sort  of 
imaginary  personage,  whom  he  endued  with  a 
complete  personality,  with  all  the  passions  of 
a  real  and  complicated  character,  in  whose 
mouth  he  placed  the  jokes  and  the  aphorisms 
which  he  collected  in  conversation  and  in  life, 
or  which  his  profound  and  ironic  wit  invented 
for  him.  This  doctor  makes  one  shudder  rather 
than  laugh,  and  the  circumstantial  pedantry 
with  which  he  relates  the  alarming  adventures 
of  "  that  discreet  and  scientific  personage, 


48  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Dame  Claire  Lenoir,  widow,"  adds  to  the 
terror  of  her  story. 

But  I  shall  frequently  have  occasion,  in  the 
course  of  these  notes,  to  quote  the  sayings  of 
this  "  honorary  member  of  many  academies 
and  professor  of  physiology,"  whose  greatest 
enjoyment,  according  to  his  biographer,  was 
to  kill  swans,  in  order  to  hear  their  dying 
song.  For  the  moment,  I  must  register  the 
decease  of  the  poetical  little  review,  in 
which  so  many  talents  tried  their  budding 
wings.  It  passed  away  in  the  second  year  of 
its  existence,  beaten  to  death  by  the  censure, 
in  the  name  of  public  morality.  The  so-called 
outrage  had  been  committed  by  its  director, 
Catulle  Mendes,  and  took  the  form  of  a  one- 
a6l  comedy  in  verse,  entitled,  "  A  Night's 
Romance"  ("Le  Roman  dune  Nuit").  The 
piece  was  far  from  being  a  good  one,  but, 
though  frivolous  and  mediocre,  it  was  not 
criminal,  and  one  wonders  on  reading  it  how 
judges  were  found  to  condemn  the  author  of 
such  a  tiny  spark  to  a  month's  imprisonment, 
and  the  review  which  published  it  to  500 
francs  fine.    The  poet  had  to  go  to  Ste. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  49 

Pelagie  and  the  review  had  to  pay  the  fine. 
Money  was  scarce,  and  by  the  time  the 
demands  of  justice  were  satisfied,  the  cashbox 
was  empty.  The  contributors  cheerfully  cele- 
brated the  obsequies  of  their  literary  offspring, 
and  most  of  them  went  to  live  in  a  furnished 
inn  in  the  Rue  Dauphine,  famous  in  the  annals 
of  contemporary  literature  as  the  Blue  Dragon 
Hotel.  Four  years  later,  we  find  them 
gathered  once  more  round  their  former  chief. 
Fortunehad  smiled  on  Catulle  Mendes ;  he  had 
money  in  his  pockets,  and  owned,  in  the  Rue 
de  Douai,  an  apartment  containing  real  furni- 
ture and  a  piano  ;  likewise  a  groom,  surnamed 
Covielle,  who  opened  the  door  to  such  visitors 
as  were  in  possession  of  the  necessary  pass- 
word. In  one  of  his  articles  in  the  "  Patrie," 
these  meetings  of  the  future  Parnassians  have 
been  admirably  reproduced  by  Francois  Cop- 
pee.  Want  of  space  forbids  me  to  cite  the 
whole,  but  I  quote  this  portrait  of  Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam,  which  represents  him  with  perfect 
and  striking  truthfulness. 

"Suddenly,  round  the  assembled  poets,  runs 
the  universal  cry  of  joy,  '  Villiers !  Here's 


50  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Villiers  ! '  And  all  at  once  a  young  man, 
with  light  blue  eyes,  a  little  wavering  in  his 
walk,  chewing  a  cigarette,  tossing  back  his 
disordered  locks,  and  twisting  his  small,  fair 
moustache,  enters,  wearing  a  haggard  look, 
shakes  hands  absently,  sees  the  open  piano, 
sits  down  to  it,  and  nervously  touching  the 
keys,  sings  in  a  voice  which  trembles,  but  the 
deep  and  magic  accents  of  which  none  of  us 
can  ever  forget,  a  melody  he  has  improvised 
in  the  street,  a  vague,  mysterious  melop&ia, 
which  accompanies  (thereby  doubling  the 
depth  and  agitation  of  the  impression  it 
makes)  Charles  Baudelaire's  beautiful  sonnet: 

'  Nous  aurons  des  lits  pleins  d'odeurs  legeres 
Des  divans  profonds  comme  des  tombeaux/  etc. 

'  Our  beds  shall  be  scented  with  sweetest  perfume, 
Our  divans  be  as  cool  and  as  dark  as  the  tomb  ! ' 

"  Then,  while  all  are  still  under  the  spell, 
humming  the  last  notes  of  his  air,  or  else 
abruptly  breaking  it  off,  he  rises,  leaves  the 
piano,  goes  as  though  to  hide  himself  in  the 
corner  of  the  room,  and  rolling  another 
cigarette,  casts  over  his  stupified  audience 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  51 

a  comprehensive  glance,  the  glance  of  Hamlet 
as  he  lies  at  Ophelia's  feet,  during  the  repre- 
sentation of  the  death  of  Gonzago. 

"  Thus  appeared  to  us,  eighteen  years  ago, 
in  those  pleasant  gatherings  at  the  house  of 
Catulle  Mendes,  in  the  Rue  de  Douai,  the 
Comte  Auguste  Philippe  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam."— Patrie,  Feb.  26,  1883. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


Early  influences — Charles  Baudelaire — My  father — 
His  relations  with  Villiers — Their  intimacy — The 
Hotel  d'Orleans — Literary  and  philosophical  gather- 
ings— Leon  Cladel — Villiers  and  the  Hegelian  philo- 
sophy— "  Isis  " — "  The  Princess  Tullia  Fabriana" — 
Preface — Eccentricities  of  style — The  original  of 
Doctor  Bonhomet  —  Doctor  C.  —  "  Ellen  "  and 
"Morgane" — Sensations  of  loneliness — The  Mar- 
quis de  l'lsle  Adam  continues  at  Paris  the  course  of 
his  profitable  financial  operations  —  The  poisoner, 
Comte  Courty  de  la  Pommerais — The  apartment  in 
the  Rue  St.  Honore — The  marquis — Aunt  Kerinou 
■ — Matthew's  decorations. 


gj^PlP  T  sometimes  happens  that  strong 
influences  felt  by  an  artist  in  his 
early7  intellectual  life  leave  an  in- 
effaceable mark  on  his  existence. 
At  the  time  of  his  initiation  into  literature, 
Villiers  fell  under  two  such  influences,  that 
of  Charles  Baudelaire,  and  that  of  my  father. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  53 

The  ascendancy  exercised  over  him  by  the 
"  Satanic "  poet  seems  to  me  to  have  been 
somewhat  inauspicious.  It  developed  his 
taste  for  extremes  and  for  mystification,  it  led 
him  astray  from  the  exercise  of  his  talent, 
naturally  clear  and  simple  in  its  expression, 
instigating  him  to  bury  it  in  clouds  of  whim- 
sical metaphor,  or  to  allow  himself  to  be 
drawn  into  the  obscurities,  the  affectations, 
the  over-refinements,  which  sometimes  dis- 
figure his  work,  and  make  it  so  difficult  to 
read.  Let  it  be  understood  that  I  do  not 
speak  here  of  irony,  which  was  one  of 
Villiers'  most  powerful  weapons,  and  which 
was  originally,  in  his  case,  thoroughly  good- 
natured,  though  the  hardships  of  life,  and  the 
wicked  stupidity  of  those  who  considered 
themselves  "  the  pink  of  gentility,"  sharpened 
it,  and  rendered  it  pitiless  and  terrible. 

But  his  connection  with  Baudelaire,  the  in- 
fluence which  the  author  of  the  "  Fleurs  du 
Mai "  gained  over  his  heart  and  intellect  at 
the  threshold  of  his  literary  career,  inspired 
him  with  that  mania  for  making  the  middle 
class  stare,  "  epater  le  bourgeois,"  and  for 


54  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

mystifying  his  readers,  from  which  he  was 
never  able  to  free  himself  even  in  his  most 
deeply  thought-out  work,  "  L'Eve  Future." 

My  father's  influence,  on  the  contrary,  was, 
by  Villiers'  own  acknowledgment,  very  useful 
and  precious  to  him.  He  often  told  me  that 
he  would  have  risen  much  higher  if  he  had 
listened  to  him  more.  But  there  was  nothing 
strange  in  the  fa6l  that  his  nervous  nature, 
his  mind  full  of  every  sort  of  curiosity,  his 
youth,  indeed,  should  have  been  much  more 
captivated  by  the  wilful  eccentricities,  the 
exotic  life,  the  dandyism,  and  the  cool  per- 
versity of  Charles  Baudelaire,  than  by  the 
counsels  of  his  Breton  relative,  who  was  for 
ever  preaching  to  him  sobriety,  labour,  soli- 
tude, and  silence. 

Up  to  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  family 
of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  in  Paris,  my  father's 
relations  with  Villiers  had  merely  been  those 
which  usually  exist  between  a  youth  and  a 
man  considerably  his  senior;  but,  after  the 
young  poet's  triumphant  entry  into  the  capital, 
attracted  more  than  any  other  person  by  the 
brilliant  dawn  of  the  budding  genius,  and 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  55 

dreading  for  him  the  formidable  reefs  on 
which  so  many  great  men  make  shipwreck 
during  their  apprentice  days,  he  drew  Villiers 
towards  him,  and  took  him,  so  to  say,  under 
his  wholesome  tutorship.  From  that  day, 
Matthias  became  part  of  the  family,  and  it 
was  soon  after  that  he  paid  that  first  visit  to 
Fougeres  my  recollection  of  which  I  have 
described  at  the  commencement  of  this  work. 

Here,  perhaps,  is  the  fittest  place  to 
insert  an  amusing  letter,  the  facsimile  of 
which  is  offered  to  the  inquiring  reader. 
It  is  addressed  to  my  father,  and  dated  from 
Montfort,  a  small  town  in  the  department  of 
Ille-et-Vilaine.  In  it  Villiers  alludes  to 
the  printing  of  his  first  volume  of  poems. 
M.  Lemenant,  the  lawyer-friend  in  whose 
house  the  letter  was  written,  was  a  worthy 
and  eccentric  man,  an  old  schoolfellow  of  the 
poet's  at  Laval,  who,  having  profited  but 
little  by  his  earlier  education  at  school,  and 
by  his  subsequent  study  of  transcendental 
philosophy  in  Paris,  wisely  devoted  himself 
to  the  care  of  the  parental  acres  and  briefs, 
in  his  native  province.    He  died  young  and 


56  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

rich.  Villiers  dedicated  some  verses  to  him 
in  the  "  Premieres  Poesies." 

"  My  dear  good  poet, 

"  And  how  are  you  ?  Better  I  hope. 
If  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  be  in  the 
rudest  health.  But  let  that  be  as  it  may,  I 
am  certain  that  the  one  thing  that  you  pine 
for  at  this  moment,  is  your  seventy-second 
game  of  chess. 

"  If,  however,  you  should  be  thinking  of 
starting  for  the  land  of  shadows,  be  good 
enough  to  give  me  warning,  so  that  I  may 
compose  in  your  glory,  and  for  the  wonder- 
ment of  the  world  in  general,  a  funeral  march 
in  E  flat.  It  is  the  fashionable  key,  and  on 
fashion  I  take  my  stand  ! 

"  I  have  no  letters  from  my  interesting 
family.  Lemenant  and  I  are  in  the  depths  of 
poverty,  which  facl  forces  me  to  ask  your 
permission  to  put  off  the  repayment  of  your 
kindly  help.  Don't  swear  at  me  !  I  publish 
the  praise  of  your  amiability  far  and  wide. 
And,  besides,  the  fault  is  yours,  and  it  will 
teach  you  to  be  too  good-natured !  Now,  I  ask 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  57 

you,  whether  in  this  nineteenth  century,  any 
sane  man  should  lend  money  to  his  friend  ? 
Do  you  desire  to  see  the  finger  of  scorn 
pointed  at  you  in  every  drawing-room  you 
enter  ?  I  will  denounce  you  to  the  whole 
of  society  as  a  traitor  to  the  principle  of 
modern  selfishness  ! 

"  This  may  bore  you — but  you  richly  de- 
serve it ! 

"  The  proofs  of '  Master  Perrin '  are  comical 
to  the  last  degree. 

"  Lemenant  and  I  have  had  several  hearty 
laughs  at  his  expense.  I  am  going  to  write 
him  a  little  jeering  letter  which  will  puzzle 
his  poor  brains. 

"  Here  is  a  specimen  of  his  manner.  It  is 
all  the  same  from  beginning  to  end. 

"  '  Lujaige  de  Don  Ivan  &  def  pechevrf  dv 
golfe: 

" 1  L'usage  de  Don  Juan  et  des  pecheurs  du 
golfe.' 

"  Here  you  have  an  impossible  rhyme, 
printed  in  this  man's  extraordinary  style. 
Too  much  of  a  joke,  isn't  it  ?  Between  our- 
selves, a  man  who  has  such  a  notion  must  be 


58  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

mad ;  just  fancy  a  book  printed  on  yellow 
paper  in  this  style !  Lemenant  vows  it 
would  be  quite  phosphorescent.  It  really  is 
comical,  and  in  my  collected  works  (if  they 
are  ever  published)  I  might  afford  myself 
such  a  luxury,  but  at  present !  Zut !  This  is 
my  definition.  He  is  the  ne  phis  ultra  of  a 
grinning,  superannuated  typographer,  or,  if 
you  prefer  it,  the  weird  ink-scratcher  of  the 
Gutenbergian  Press !  and,  in  other  words, 
the  grave  of  human  thought ! 

"  Now,  let  us  go  on  to  less  casual  matters. 

"  Montfort  is  a  town,  or  rather — stay !  I 
am  right  in  calling  it  a  town — full  of  mud,  and 
of  calm. — We  live  in  it,  under  the  wing  of 
that  good  old  seraph  whose  name  is  '  cheerful- 
ness.' 

"  The  country  swarms  with  worthy  people, 
and  one  hardly  knows  oneself,  coming  from 
Paris ! 

"  There  is  a  mill  here,  a  real  mill,  exactly 
like  Rosa  Bonheur's  pictures  (still  life). 

"  Lemenant  pours  daily  from  our  open 
window  his  sanctimonious  speeches,  and  his 
metaphysico-transcendental  spleen. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  59 

"  The  few  terrified  passers-by  listen,  listen, 
— and  accompany  his  discourse  to  the  air, 
*  II  a  des  bott,  bott,  bott.'  The  which  pro- 
duces an  effect  whereon  I  heartily  congratulate 
him. 

"We  live  in  the  square,  which  triples  the 
interest  of  the  view,  and  I  peacefully  go  on 
making  rhymes  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult. 
A  bientot,  dear  kind  poet ! 

"  Believe  in  my  true  faithful  friendship  !  I 
clasp  your  hand  and  heartily  embrace  you. 
If  you  have  time,  send  me  a  reassuring  word 
about  your  health. 

"  VlLLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  AdAM." 

At  the  very  end  of  the  Rue  Richelieu, 
almost  opposite  the  Theatre  Francais,  stands 
an  hotel — the  Hotel  d' Orleans— where  I 
often  and  gladly  stay.  I  cannot  pass  under 
its  vaulted  entrance  without  being  deeply 
moved.  As  I  gaze  on  the  inner  court  with 
its  steep  flight  of  steps,  and  glance  at  the 
second-floor  windows,  all  the  ghosts  of  my 
youthful  school-days  rise  up  around  me,  every 
corner  of  the  dwelling  is  familiar,  and  at  each 


6o  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


turn  I  seem  to  see  the  proud  outline  of  my 
father's  face.  Here  he  lived  for  twelve  years, 
and  here  my  brothers  and  I,  students  at  the 
College  Rollin,  spent  our  Sunday  holidays. 
We  used  to  be  present  in  clouds  of  tobacco 
smoke,  at  endless  discussions  between  Villiers 
de  1'Isle  Adam  and  the  master  of  the  little 
apartment.  We  did  not  understand  much, 
it  must  be  admitted,  but  we  used  to  gaze 
open-mouthed  at  the  wild  gestures,  the 
chamois-like  bounds,  the  contortions  of  every 
feature,  with  which  our  cousin  Matthias  used 
to  embellish  his  arguments. 

This  hotel  in  the  Rue  Richelieu  had  not 
then,  it  has  not  now,  the  commonplace  aspect 
of  our  modern  caravanserais.  In  spite  of 
all  the  alterations  made  by  its  new  owners, 
the  walls  of  the  building  still  bear  the  marks 
of  its  illustrious  origin. 

For  this  was  the  old  town-house  of  the 
Cardinal  Armand  de  Richelieu,  and  the  prin- 
cipal building,  reached  by  a  flight  of  stone 
steps  of  great  dignity  of  form,  has  preserved 
all  the  majestic  simplicity  of  the  architectural 
style  of  the  time  of  Louis  XIII. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  61 


In  the  days  of  my  father  and  of  Villiers, 
the  hotel  was  kept  by  a  worthy  couple  whose 
son  was  an  artist,  and  hence,  scattered  through 
the  rooms,  were  tapestries,  frescoes,  pictures, 
and  trophies  of  arms,  which  heightened  the 
quaint  air  of  the  dwelling. 

Hither,  in  the  evenings,  to  a  modest 
apartment  on  the  second  floor,  came  some 
dreamers,  some  thinkers,  some  philosophers. 
Besides  the  face  of  Villiers,  a  second  coun- 
tenance, seen  by  chance  at  one  of  these 
reunions,  remains  graven  on  my  memory, 
that  of  Leon  Cladel.  His  mighty  stature, 
his  long  hair,  his  pallid  complexion,  his 
gloomy  countenance,  his  wild  eyes,  his 
reddish-brown  beard,  really  gave  him  that  air 
attributed  to  him  by  Catulle  Mendes,  of  a 
fallen  angel. 

He  used  to  come  with  his  friend  Baude- 
laire, whom,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  I  do  not 
recollect. 

As  my  father  was  much  occupied  with 
philosophy  at  this  period  of  his  life,  the  philo- 
sophers were  the  most  numerous  and  eager 
guests  at  these  gatherings,  where  much  coffee 


62  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

was  drunk,  and  an  incalculable  number  of 
pipes  and  cigarettes  consumed.  The  host 
was  at  that  time  passionately  interested  in 
the  German  school  of  philosophy,  which 
soon  laid  hold  of  the  profound  mind  of  Vil- 
liers  de  l'lsle  Adam.  His  friend  initiated 
him  into  the  brilliant  spiritualist  theories  of 
Hegel,  whose  fervent  disciple  he  was ;  but 
the  humanitarian  and  socialistic  projects  of 
the  author  of  the  "  Poemes  virils "  found  a 
somewhat  unfriendly  auditor  in  Villiers.  His 
mind  and  soul  soared  too  far  above  realities 
to  preoccupy  themselves  about  the  sufferings 
of  humanity  or  the  miseries  of  real  life.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  Titanic  poetry,  the  breadth 
and  splendour  of  the  views  of  the  German 
thinker,  filled  him  with  the  greatest  enthu- 
siasm. He  began  to  put  forward  the  theories 
of  the  speculative  philosophy  in  the  curious 
tale  of  "  Claire  Lenoir,"  which  I  have  already 
spoken  of.  Some  years  later,  in  1862,  he 
published  the  first  volume  of  a  mysterious 
novel,  "  I  sis,"  the  continuation  of  which  never 
appeared,  in  which  the  Hegelian  principles 
and  system  are  developed  and  carried  out  to 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  63 

their  extremest  limit.  This  first  volume, 
entitled  "  Tullia  Fabriana,"  was  dedicated  to 
my  father.  It  gained  for  its  author  some 
expressions  of  admiration  from  Baudelaire, 
which  at  this  date  may  seem  excessive. 

In  truth,  this  novel  contains  more  faults 
than  good  qualities.    The  passion  for  roman- 
ticism of  which  Villiers  never  could  rid  him- 
self, here  breaks  out  in  gloomy,  improbable, 
melodramatic  adventures,  worked  out  with 
all  the  inexperience  of  a  young  hand.  An 
overflowing  wealth  of  imagination  does  not 
suffice  to  conceal  the  inherent  vices  of  the 
work.    When  the  writer's  talent  had  ripened, 
and  when  time  had  calmed  down  the  exube- 
rance of  his  fancy,  he  himself  recognized  all 
the  imperfections  of  his  early  efforts,  and 
"  I  sis,"  which  was  originally  to  consist  of  six 
volumes,  was  not  continued.    In  the  preface 
to  "  Tullia  Fabriana "  the  author  thus  ex- 
presses himself:   "Tsis'  is  the  title  of  a 
collection  of  works,  which  will  appear,  I  hope, 
at  short  intervals  ;  it  is  the  collective  formula 
for  a  series  of  philosophical  novels,  the  x 
of  a  problem  of  the  Ideal ;  it  is  the  great 


64  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

unknown  :  once  finished,  the  work  will  be  its 
own  definition." 

The  absolute  need  for  oddity  which  seems 
to  be  inherent  in  Villiers,  is  betrayed  in 
"  Isis "  in  a  very  evident  manner.  The 
eccentricities  of  its  style  attracted  many  jests 
in  the  smaller  papers.  Already,  at  the  appear- 
ance of  "Claire  Lenoir"  in  the  "Revue 
Fantaisiste,"  the  "  Tintamarre "  and  other 
satirical  sheets  had  made  copious  game  of 
the  strange  expressions  employed  by  the 
young  writer.  One  sentence  especially  had 
become  celebrated.  It  had  been  placed  by 
the  author  in  the  lips  of  Dr.  Bonhomet  him- 
self, "  Je  lui  fus  grat  de  cette  injure."  Villiers 
claimed  that,  as  ingrat  is  the  qualifying  ad- 
jective derived  from  the  noun  ingratitude,  so 
the  adjective  derived  from  gratitude  must  be 
grat.  Logically,  reason  was  on  his  side,'  but 
he  doubtless  forgot  that  the  French  language 
laughs  at  logic. 

This  name  of  Bonhomet,  coming  back  to 
my  pen,  reminds  me  that  this  bold  concep- 
tion, which  haunted  Villiers'  brain  until  his 
death,  is  not  purely  imaginary.    The  Hotel 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  65 

d'Orleans  possessed  at  that  time,  as  physician 

in  ordinary,  a  certain  Dr.  C  ,  who  had 

the  most  ill-favoured  countenance  it  is  possible 
to  imagine.  For  the  rest,  he  was  an  excellent 
man,  of  a  most  charitable  nature,  and  a  very 
distinguished  savant.  But  his  gloomy  face, 
a  certain  mode  of  expressing  himself  at  once 
whimsical  and  pompous,  his  positivism,  his 
disdainful  scorn  for  any  manifestation  of  art, 
the  extraordinary  shape  of  his  hats  and  cut  of 
his  clothes,  heated  the  poet's  imagination. 
Thenceforward,  all  unconscious,  the  worthy 

Dr.  C  became  a  sort  of  dummy,  on  whose 

frame  Villiers  hung,  from  day  to  day,  all  the 
wily  sophisms,  all  the  strange  fancies,  all  the 
terrible  or  grotesque  fads,  which  make  the 
savant  Triboulat  Bonhomet  a  unique  type  in 
modern  literature. 

The  first  years  in  Paris  (1859- 1863)  were 
a  most  prolific  period.  Besides  "  Claire  Le- 
noir "  and  "  I  sis,"  the  writer  gave  the  public 
two  dramas  full  of  gloomy  splendour,  which 
were  never  acled — "  Ellen"  and  "  Morgane." 
There  is  a  fine  sentence  in  "  Morgane,"  which 
I  desire  to  quote  here,  because  it  seems  to  me 


66  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


admirably  characteristic  not  only  of  the  style, 
but  of  the  turn  of  mind  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  at  this  epoch  : 

"  I  drink  to  thee,  O  forest,  thou  giver  of 
oblivion  !  To  you,  dew-laden  grasses !  To 
you,  too,  O  wild  roses !  growing  beneath  the 
oaks,  intoxicated  by  the  moisture  dripping 
from  their  heavy  foliage  !  And  to  you,  ye 
wild  sea-shores,  where  hover  at  eventide  the 
salt  odours  of  the  star-reflecting  waves,  and 
who  stretch  away,  like  I  myself,  in  pride  and 
solitude  ! " 

The  author  of  "  L'Eve  Future"  always 
had  this  sense  of  being  alone  in  the  midst  of 
the  world.  "  I  have  always,"  he  wrote  to  me 
a  few  years  before  his  death,  "  felt  alone,  even 
when  beside  a  woman  I  loved,  or  with  a 
friend  —  nay,  even  in  the  enthusiastically 
affectionate  circle  of  my  own  immediate 
family." 

While  the  son  thus  took  his  place  in  the 
sunshine  of  literature,  what  became  of  the 
proud  marquis,  the  gentle  saintly  marquise, 
the  good  aunt  Kerinou,  amidst  all  the  noisy 
whirl  of  Parisian  life  ?    The  marquis,  still 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  67 

possessed  by  his  visions  of  wealth,  had  once 
more  taken  up  his  lucrative  speculations.  He 
was  surrounded  by  a  flight  of  birds  of  prey, 
business  agents,  and  such  like,  of  strange  and 
lean  appearance,  who  were  engaged  in  sharing 
amongst  themselves  the  last  remnants  of  his 
patrimony. 

He  had  established  on  his  own  account  a 
sort  of  branch  of  the  Record  Office,  where, 
with  a  fine,  self-sufficient  air,  he  gave  out 
brevets  of  nobility.  Unfortunately  his  choice 
of  the  persons  he  ennobled  was  not  always 
judicious ;  and  thus  it  came  about  that  in  the 
course  of  the  trial  of  the  poisoner,  Courty  de 
la  Pommerais,  the  counsel  for  that  doclor, 
criminal  enough,  although  a  homoeopath,  laid 
before  the  tribunal  a  pompous  certificate 
signed  by  the  Marquis  Joseph  de  Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam,  Dean  of  the  Order  of  the  Knights 
of  Malta,  and  attesting  the  fact  that  the 
accused,  being  of  noble  birth,  had  an  incon- 
testable right  to  bear  the  title  of  "comte" 
(which  title  he  had  assumed  in  order  to  im- 
pose upon  his  clients !). 

Towards  the  end  of  1863,  somewhere  about 


63  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

New  Year's  Day,  my  father  took  me,  for  the 
first  time,  to  visit  the  old  Marquis  and  Mar- 
quise de  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam.  They  had 
taken  apartments  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore, 
close  to  the  Place  Venddme,  in  the  house 
now  occupied,  I  believe,  by  the  photographer, 
M.  Lejeune.  I  remember  the  drawing-room 
was  very  large,  very  high  up,  with  very 
little  furniture,  and  on  that  dark  December 
day  it  made  one  rather  shivery.  The  mar- 
quise appeared  to  me  like  a  shadow ;  she  was 
dressed  in  black,  pale,  sad,  and  distinguished- 
looking.  When  my  father  spoke  of  Matthias, 
her  face  beamed.  She  told  us  with  a  faint 
smile  that  the  marquis  was  at  his  business. 
She  added  that  her  aunt  Kerinou  was  ill  in 
bed,  but  that  she  would  like  to  see  us.  In  a 
great  old-fashioned  bed,  I  perceived  a  little 
old  lady,  whose  doll-like  face,  framed  in  an 
immense  frilled  cap,  was  all  that  could  be 
seen  of  her.  She  had  a  long,  mobile  nose, 
and  small  bright  eyes,  and  talked  a  great 
deal.  Certain  phrases  which  fell  perpetually 
from  her  lips  struck  me,  because  they  made 
my  father  laugh  in  spite  of  himself.  Her 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  69 

intonation  rests  within  my  memory,  and  at 
this  moment  I  can  hear  the  little  clear  tremu- 
lous voice  repeating,  "  You  know,  Hyacinthe, 
Matthias  is  a  famous  man  ! — Matthias  is  going 
to  have  a  decoration. — The  emperor  is  going 
to  decorate  Matthias. — Matthias  will  be  de- 
corated." 

I  need  hardly  add  that  it  was  all  a  dream 
of  the  old  lady's.  Nobody  thought  then,  no 
one  has  thought  since,  of  giving  the  "  Croix  " 
to  the  author  of  "Axel."  Villiers  de  Flsle 
Adam  was  one  of  those  men  whom  no  govern- 
ment decorates. 


CHAPTER  V. 

The  legend  of  the  hoaxer  hoaxed — The  succession 
to  the  throne  of  Greece — Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam  a 
candidate  for  the  throne — "  Le  Lion  de  Numidie" — 
"The  Moor  of  Venice" — Nemesis — An  imperial 
audience — The  Marquis  and  Baron  Rothschild — 
The  Due  de  Bassano  and  Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam — 
The  last  act  of  the  comedy — A  poet's  conclusion — 
Death  of  Aunt  Kerinou — Separation. 

HERE  is  concerning  this  epoch  in 
the  life  of  Villiers  a  wonderful 
legend  which  has  remained  cele- 
brated in  the  literary  world ;  but 
in  passing  from  mouth  to  mouth  it  has  gone 
through  so  many  transformations,  and  fallen  so 
far  from  the  truth,  that  it  is  necessary  to  re-esta- 
blish it  in  its  pristine  simplicity.  My  readers 
will  perceive  that  the  vis  comica  of  the  terrible 
joke  of  which  the  young  writer  was  a  victim 
had  no  need  of  graces  and  embellishments. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  71 

Here  some  words  of  preamble  are  needed, 
and  my  frivolous  pen  must  needs  make  an 
excursion  into  the  grave  and  wearisome  realm 
of  contemporary  political  history.  Be  re- 
assured, my  reader !  it  shall  be  but  a  short  one. 

In  the  year  of  grace,  1863,  then,  a  time 
at  which  the  imperial  government  shone 
with  its  brightest  radiance,  the  Hellenic  nation 
happened  to  be  in  want  of  a  king.  The 
great  powers  who  protected  the  heroic  little 
nation  to  which  Byron  had  sacrificed  his  life, 
France,  Russia,  and  England,  looked  about 
for  a  young  constitutional  tyrant  whom  they 
might  confer  on  their protSgie.  Napoleon  III. 
had  at  that  epoch  the  casting  vote  in  the 
council,  and  men  were  asking  themselves 
anxiously  whether  he  would  put  forward  a 
candidate,  and  whether  that  candidate  would 
be  a  Frenchman.  Briefly,  the  newspapers 
were  full  of  stories  about,  and  comments  on 
this  absorbing  subjecl. :  the  Greek  question 
was  the  question  of  the  hour.  The  news- 
mongers could  fearlessly  give  free  rein  to 
their  imagination,  for  whilst  the  other  nations 
seemed  to  have  fixed  their  definite  choice  on 


72  VILLIERS  DE  I/ISLE  ADAM. 

the  son  of  the  King  of  Denmark,  the  emperor 
— so  justly  named  "the  taciturn  prince  "  by  the 
friend  of  his  dark  days,  Charles  Dickens — 
the  emperor,  I  say,  held  his  peace,  and  let 
his  decision  be  waited  for. 

Thus  matters  stood,  when  one  morning 
early  in  March  the  tall  marquis  burst  like  a 
whirlwind  into  the  dreary  drawing-room  in  the 
Rue  St.  Honore  brandishing  a  newspaper,  and 
in  an  indescribable  state  of  excitement,  soon 
to  be  shared  by  all  his  family.  This  was  the 
strange  news  registered  that  day  in  the 
columns  of  several  Parisian  newspapers  : 
"  We  learn  on  good  authority  that  a  new 
candidature  has  just  been  announced  for  the 
throne  of  Greece.  The  candidate  this  time 
is  a  French  grand  seigneur  well  known  all 
over  Paris — the  Comte  Philippe  Auguste 
de  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  last  descendant  of 
the  august  line  which  has  produced  the  heroic 
defender  of  Rhodes  and  the  first  Grand  Master 
of  the  Knights  of  Malta.  At  the  emperor's 
last  private  reception,  one  of  his  intimates 
having  inquired  concerning  the  probability  of 
this  candidate's  success,  his  majesty  smiled 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  73 

enigmatically.  The  new  aspirant  to  kingly 
honours  has  our  best  wishes." 

Those  who  have  followed  me  so  far  will 
easily  imagine  the  effecT;  produced  on  imagi- 
nations like  those  of  the  Villiers  family  by 
such  a  perusal.  Already  they  beheld  their 
Matthias  entering  Athens,  dressed  in  black 
velvet,  proudly  seated  on  a  white  charger, 
surrounded  by  his  splendid  Palikares  ! 

As  for  Matthias  himself,  he  took  it  all  very 
seriously,  though  he  doubted  of  ultimate 
success. 

"  Sire ! "  said  the  old  marquis  gravely,  as 
he  majestically  buttoned  his  coat,  worn  white 
with  wear,  "  money  is  the  one  thing  you  want ! 
Your  majesty's  father  will  see  you  get  it ! 
Farewell !   I  am  going  to  see  Rothschild  ! " 

He  went,  and  was  seen  no  more  for  a  week. 

But  let  me  quickly  explain  the  origin  of 
this  extraordinary  adventure.  It  might  truly 
be  called  the  hoaxer  hoaxed,  with  the  quali- 
fication, however,  that  the  hoaxee  would 
never  believe  in  a  hoax  at  all. 

In  the  days  when  Villiers  was  the  chief 
figure  of  the  little  circle  at  the  Rue  de  Douai 


74  VILLIERS  DE !  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

and  of  some  literary  caboulets  (as  were  then 
called  certain  cafes  where  writers  congregated), 
he  had  a  rival,  a  splendid  fellow  with  pale 
skin,  eagle  eyes,  and  a  thick  black  head  of 
hair,  whom  the  Parnassians  nicknamed  "  Le 
Lion  de  Numidie,"  although  he  only  hailed 
from  Montpellier.  I  will  call  him  by  no  other 
name,  for  since  those  days  the  lion  has  clipped 
his  mane,  cut  his  claws,  and  done  public 
penance  to  society !  Gifted  with  a  wonderful 
constitution,  with  delightful  spirits  and  good 
temper,  with  a  much-dreaded  shrewdness  and 
surprising  powers  of  observation,  this  jolly 
Colossus  would  have  been  invulnerable,  had 
he  not  been  afflicted  with  a  vanity  as  strange 
as  it  was  unwarrantable. 

The  Numidian  lion  had  pretensions  to 
being  an  admirable  a6lor,  and  never  lost  an 
opportunity  of  showing  off  his  talent  for 
mimicry  and  his  powers  of  declamation. 
Villiers,  who  had  already  practised  that  ter- 
rible, cold,  and  serious  irony,  which  makes  all 
the  weaknesses  of  human  nature  its  target, 
soon  perceived  the  weak  place  in  his  jolly 
boon  companion's  armour.    He  longed  for  a 


VILLIERS  DE  I/ISLE  ADAM.  75 

joke,  insinuated  himself  into  the  lion's  good 
graces,  and  by  degrees  succeeded  in  putting 
him  off  his  guard.  He  then  explained  to  him 
that  some  friends  of  his  were  desirous  of 
playing  the  "  Moor  of  Venice  "  on  a  stage  hired 
for  that  purpose,  but  that  they  could  find  no 
one  capable  of  undertaking  the  part  of  Othello, 
and  the  more  so  as  it  was  absolutely  neces- 
sary, to  keep  the  local  colour,  that  the  acior 
should  stain  his  face  and  arms  black.  "  Don't 
let  that  hinder  you,"  cried  his  friend  boldly ; 
"  I  am  your  man  ;  here  is  my  hand  on  it!" 
With  astonishing  patience  and  gravity,  Villiers 
helped  his  friend  to  rehearse,  and  told  him 
where  to  get  "  made  up."  Then  a  dress 
rehearsal  was  called,  to  take  place  at  the 
usual  trysting-place  of  the  band  of  poets.  I 
need  not  say  there  never  had  been  a  question 
of  playing  Shakespeare's  masterpiece,  but, 
all  the  same,  Villiers  had  summoned  all  the 
poets,  "  horse,  foot,  and  dragoon."  When 
Othello,  in  his  splendid  dress,  his  hands  and 
face  as  black  as  those  of  the  King  of  Dahomey, 
made  his  entrance,  a  general  shout  went  up  at 
the  sight  of  the  Numidian  lion,  who  richly 


76  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

justified  his  title.  The  Provencal  was  too 
sharp  not  to  perceive  at  once  that  he  had 
been  duped.  He  took  it  well,  and  was  the 
first  to  laugh  at  his  own  strange  get-up,  but 
anyone  who  intercepted  the  look  with  which 
he  favoured  the  descendant  of  the  Grand 
Master  of  the  Order  of  Malta  could  have 
foretold  his  speedy  revenge.  He  remained 
Villiers'  friend,  and  in  his  turn  discovered 
the  defect  in  his  coat  of  mail.  Then  it  was 
that  he  laid  a  snare  for  his  vanity,  his  patri- 
cian pride,  his  foolish  family  pretensions, 
which  almost  betokened  genius.  The  son  of 
the  treasure-seeker  was  to  be  seduced  by  the 
mirage  of  the  throne  and  royal  crown  then 
sparkling  on  the  horizon  !  The  perpetrator  of 
the  hoax  had  made  his  calculations  admirably  : 
the  candidature  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam 
could  not  seem  anything  abnormal  to  the 
public.  The  name  was  illustrious  and  high- 
sounding  ;  it  was  not  impossible,  therefore, 
that  the  sovereign,  desirous  of  placing  on  the 
Greek  throne  a  monarch  who  owed  every- 
thing to  him,  might  choose  amongst  the 
flower  of  the  French  nobility  a  person  on 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  77 

whom  he  designed  to  bestow  a  crown.  The 
thing  only  became  improbable,  laughable, 
and  grotesque,  when  one  knew  the  two 
chief  personages,  the  king,  and  the  king's 
father. 

Many  people  were  taken  in,  and  the  ex- 
pectant king  soon  received  the  usual  avalanche 
of  begging  letters. 

Our  Matthias  did  not  remain  idle,  nor  dally 
with  his  golden  dream.  This  throne  which 
glistened  with  gems  and  precious  stones 
through  the  blue  smoke-clouds  of  his  ciga- 
rette, tempted  him  much  more  than  he 
acknowledged  to  himself.  Instigated  by  his 
good  friends,  who  were  laughing  at  him  in 
their  sleeves,  he  drew  up  a  request  for  an  audi- 
ence, and  sent  it  to  the  Tuileries.  Some  days 
afterwards,  a  magnificent  estafette  drew  up 
before  the  house  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  and 
gave  to  the  astonished  concierge  a  letter  sealed 
with  the  imperial  arms,  and  addressed  to  the 
Comte  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam;  the  audience 
was  granted,  and  fixed  for  an  early  date. 

For  the  first  and  only  time  in  his  life,  the 
poet  found  a  tailor  who  gave  him  credit.  He 


78  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

ordered  a  sumptuous  evening  coat,  with  all  its 
appendages,  and  then  he  shut  himself  up  in 
his  own  room,  to  study  before  the  glass  his 
entry,  his  gestures,  and  the  speech  which  he 
would  address  to  the  sovereign. 

On  his  side,  the  terrible  Southern,  in  whose 
ear  Nemesis  ceaselessly  whispered,  did  not 
lose  his  time.  Every  day  one  or  two  news- 
papers contained  some  paragraph  concerning 
the  "  French  candidate."  It  was  announced 
that  the  emperor  was  about  to  receive  him  : 
it  was  related  that  his  father,  the  marquis, 
had  had  a  long  and  cordial  interview  with 
Baron  Rothschild.  But  where  the  Numidian 
lion  really  showed  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent, 
was  in  his  manner  of  preparing  his  victim  for 
the  impending  audience.  The  writer,  who  was 
then  in  the  throes  of  his  novel,  "  Isis,"  had 
his  imagination  filled  with  those  gloomy  ad- 
ventures which  give  such  a  romantic  and 
mysterious  colour  to  the  history  of  Italian 
principalities  in  the  sixteenth  century.  He 
dreamt  of  nothing  but  palaces  full  of  murderous 
snares,  whose  walls  opened,  whose  ceilings 
descended,  whose  floors  gaped,  to  stifle  or  en- 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  79 

tomb  the  imprudent  mortals  who  allowed 
themselves  to  be  allured  into  the  luxurious 
and  fatal  dwellings  of  tyrants  and  princes. 
The  contriver  of  the  trick  took  admirable 
advantage  of  the  predisposition  of  his  victim  ; 
he  reminded  him  that  the  familiars  of  the 
Tuileries  were  not  over-scrupulous ;  he  told 
him  a  heap  of  tragic  anecdotes  relating  to  the 
morrow  of  the  second  of  December,  and  hav- 
ing as  their  scene  this  palace,  which,  accord- 
ing to  him,  was  as  full  of  trap-doors  as  an 
operatic  stage.  Many  people,  he  insinuated, 
who  had  entered  that  little  door  on  the  Place 
du  Carrousel  have  never  been  seen  to  come 
out ;  so  let  Villiers  beware,  for  if  any  favourite 
had  an  interest  in  his  disappearance,  a  trap- 
door, a  dungeon,  might  open  suddenly  under 
his  feet.  Above  all,  he  must  absolutely  refuse 
to  explain  himself  to  any  but  the  emperor 
himself ! 

At  last  the  great  day  came,  and  poor  Mat- 
thias, very  pale  and  agitated  in  his  brand-new 
clothes,  got  into  a  hired  carriage,  and  drove 
away  to  the  Tuileries ;  before  starting,  he 
made  his  will,  and  sent  it  to  my  father. 


80  VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 

It  is  difficult  to  tell  exactly  what  passed  at 
the  Tuileries  :  Villiers'  version  is  so  impressed 
with  romance  that  it  is  not  easy  to  disentangle 
the  real  from  the  imaginary.  What  seems 
certain  is  that  the  poet  was  received  by  the 
Due  de  Bassano,  who  at  that  time  fulfilled 
the  functions  of  Grand  Chamberlain  of  the 
Palace.  Doubtless  the  old  diplomatist  tried 
to  fathom  Matthias's  intentions  by  clever 
questioning,  but  he  found  himself  confronted 
by  a  personage  unlike  any  he  had  ever  met 
in  his  long  and  adventurous  career.  As  for 
the  poet,  his  already  heated  imagination  soon 
carried  him  into  oblivion  of  his  present  where- 
abouts, to  believe  himself  the  hero  of  one  of 
those  dark  and  mysterious  court  intrigues,  the 
dramatic  histories  of  which  he  had  lately  been 
perusing.  He  refused  to  utter,  would  scarcely 
put  his  foot  down  without  insulting  precautions, 
responded  coldly  to  the  advances  of  his  inter- 
locutor, upon  whom  he  cast  glances  and  deeply 
significant  smiles  which  were  quite  unintel- 
ligible to  the  chamberlain,  and  finally  stated, 
courteously  but  firmly,  that  he  was  resolved 
to  speak  to  nobody  but  the  emperor  himself. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  81 


"  I  must  ask  you,  then,  to  take  the  trouble  of 
coming  another  time,  count,"  said  the  duke, 
rising;  "his  majesty  is  engaged,  and  com- 
missioned me  to  receive  you." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  chamberlain 
took  the  man  of  genius  for  a  lunatic,  and,  in 
spite  of  my  admiration  for  the  author  of 
"  L'Eve  Future,"  I  cannot  wonder  at  it.  Vil- 
liers  used  to  relate  that  he  was  escorted 
through  the  apartments  to  the  staircase  by 
two  muscular  and  threatening  fellows  dressed 
in  black,  and  that  he  expected  every  moment 
to  be  cast  into  a  dungeon.  "  For,"  he  would 
add,  "  I  saw,  the  instant  I  entered,  that  Bas- 
sano  had  been  gained  over  to  the  son  of  the 
King  of  Denmark,  and  that  his  objecl  in  sum- 
moning me  to  the  Tuileries  was  to  get  rid  of  an 
inconvenient  and  dangerous  rival ;  but  my  cold- 
ness, my  dignity,  the  good  style  and  modera- 
tion of  my  words,  doubtless  impressed  the 
Sbirri,  and  I  was  allowed  to  depart  in  peace." 

The  claimant  went  home  with  hanging 
head,  in  great  terror  of  the  secret  police, 
fancying  he  was  going  to  be  arrested,  thrown 
into  prison,  and  perhaps  put  to  death. 

G 


82  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

He  barricaded  himself  into  his  room,  and 
never  left  it  for  a  week.  At  last  the  news- 
papers put  an  end  to  his  anxieties  and  his 
ambitious  hopes,  by  announcing  the  final 
nomination  of  his  fortunate  rival,  the  second 
son  of  King  Christian  IX.,  who  ascended 
the  throne  of  Greece  under  the  title  of 
George  I. 

The  last  ac~l  of  the  comedy  had  been  played 
out,  the  curtain  fell,  but  the  principal  actor 
never  would  believe  that  it  was  all  mere  fancy. 
He  never  doubted  but  that  he  had  had  the 
most  serious  chance  of  success  ;  and  to  the 
last  day  of  his  life  he  would  describe,  in  his 
picturesque  and  glowing  conversation,  the 
splendid  things  that  he  would  have  accom- 
plished, if  fortune  had  favoured  him,  and  he 
had  become  king. 

Reader,  you  may  laugh  !  but  yet,  would 
much  harm  have  been  done  ?  would  the 
Greeks  have  been  less  happy,  if  a  gentle  poet 
had  borne  the  sceptre  of  the  country  which 
saw  Aphrodite's  immortal  beauty  rise  from 
the  sparkling,  foam-crested  sea-waves — the 
country  of  Homer,  of  ./^Eschylus,  of  Anacreon, 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  83 


of  Aristophanes  ?  Doubtless,  the  reign  of 
Matthias  would  not  have  resembled  that  of 
our  late  highly-respe6lable  Louis  Philippe, 
but  perhaps,  fired  by  his  genius,  the  Greece 
of  Miltiades  and  Themistocles,  of  Marathon 
and  Salamis,  might  have  felt  her  ancient  soul 
stir  within  her!  The  poet's  kingdom  is  not 
alas !  of  this  world,  and  his  crown  is  a  thorny 
one.  And  what,  indeed,  is  a  throne  that  it 
should  be  so  eagerly  desired  ?  The  hero  of 
this  adventure  has  told  us  in  some  very  beau- 
tiful lines  :  let  them  form  the  conclusion  of 
this  veracious  history. 

"  Un  trone  pour  celui  qui  reve, 
Un  trone  est  bien  sombre  aujourd'hui. 
Faite  des  vanites  humaines, 
A  ses  pieds  saignent  bien  des  haines, 
Souvent  il  voile  bien  des  peines  ! 
La  foule  obscure  reste  au  seuil : 
Sapin  couvert  d'hermines  blanches. 
II  a  sceptre  et  lauriers  pour  branches ; 
II  est  forme  de  quatre  planches 
Absolument  comme  un  cercueil !  " 1 

1  "To  him  whose  life  is  full  of  dreams 
A  throne  is  now  a  dreary  seat. 
Summit  of  earthly  vanity, 
By  bloody  hatreds  girt  about, 


84  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

The  old  aunt,  Mdlle.  Kerinou,  never  rose 
from  the  great  canopied  bed  in  which  I  saw 
her  at  the  end  of  that  memorable  year,  for  the 
first  and  only  time  in  my  life.  Her  pure  and 
simple  soul  took  wing  to  the  gardens  of  Para- 
dise, escorted  by  all  her  hopes  and  illusions. 
The  departure  of  the  good  old  lady  was  a  ter- 
rible event  for  the  Villiers  de  l'lsle  family; 
up  to  now,  thanks  to  her  income,  it  had  been 
possible  to  pursue  the  jog-trot  journey  of  life 
without  too  many  jolts,  but  her  fortune,  being 
for  the  most  part  in  an  annuity,  necessarily 
died  with  her,  and  at  her  death  these  poor 
Bretons,  exiled  in  cruel,  terrible  Paris,  saw 
the  ghost  of  penury  rise  up  before  them. 
The  dwelling  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore  was 
given  up,  and  the  furniture  sold.  The  mar- 
quise went  back  to  the  country,  in  the  hope 
of  raising  some  funds  ;  the  marquis  was  a  quia. 
He  had  (in  connection  with  a  wild  society  for 

It  cloaks  full  oft  the  bitterest  griefs, 
Unrecked  of  by  the  common  herd. 
It's  like  some  ermine-covered  pine, 
Whose  branches  crown  and  sceptre  make, 
And  coffin-like,  the  thing  is  built, 
Hollow,  and  formed  of  planks  of  wood  ! " 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  85 

working  some  problematic  bitumen  lakes) 
made  acquaintance  with  the  police  court.  I 
hasten  to  add  that  he  left  it  with  head  erect 
and  clean  hands,  but  his  pockets  were  utterly- 
empty.  Father  and  son  separated,  and  Villiers 
went  to  live  alone,  to  begin  that  sad  pilgrimage 
through  Parisian  lodging-houses,  which  lasted 
all  his  life,  and  closed  in  the  Rue  Oudinot,  under 
theroof  of  the  Brotherhood  of  St.  Jean  deDieu. 

Soon  after,  I  left  Paris  and  the  College 
Rollin,  where  I  had  completed  my  studies,  to 
enter  an  English  university.  For  me,  too, 
the  battle  of  life  was  beginning.  Thence- 
forward I  only  heard  of  Villiers  from  time  to 
time.  I  used  to  read  his  books,  which  he  sent 
to  my  father,  and  often  the  newspapers  re- 
ported his  eccentricities  and  his  deep  sayings 
to  me.  On  that  interior  stage  which  we  all 
bear  within  us,  and  which  men  call  memory, 
he  appeared  to  me  as  a  legendary  personage, 
full  of  strange  attraction,  and  I  liked  to  make 
my  father  tell  me  every  story  he  knew  about 
our  cousin  Matthias. 

Certainly  I  little  thought  then,  that  these 
recollections  and  anecdotes  would  help  me  in 


86  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

my  riper  age  to  call  up  and  bring  to  life  the 
genial  figure  of  the  great  Breton  artist. 

Neither  did  I  suspect  that,  some  years  later, 
this  great  artist  would  become  my  own  most 
revered  teacher,  my  surest,  most  faithful,  and 
most  precious  friend.  But  so  it  was  to  be. 
During  three  years,  from  1877  to  1880,  we 
lived  side  by  side  in  an  absolute  and  constant 
intellectual  intimacy.  And  if,  even  now,  the 
love  of  the  ideal  and  of  the  imperishably 
beautiful  consoles  me  for  much  that  is  horrible, 
much  that  is  wretched,  much  that  is  mediocre 
and  unworthy,  it  is  to  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam 
that  I  owe  it ;  he  it  is,  who,  on  those  dark 
nights,  when  our  feet  trod  the  mud  of  Lutetia, 
eloquently  pointed  out  to  me  the  starry  way. 

In  order  then  to  conclude  these  notes,  it 
remains  for  me  to  relate  that  part  of  the  poet's 
life  of  which  I  was  the  almost  daily  witness. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


My  return  to  Paris — The  Hotel  d'Orleans — My  search 
for  Villiers  —  Our  reunion  —  The  earlier  stages 
of  his  lawsuit — The  historical  drama  of  "Perrinet 
Leclerc "  —  Paul  Cleves,  director  of  the  Porte 
St.  Martin  Theatre — The  Marechal  Jean  de  ITsle 
Adam,  according  to  Messrs.  Lockroy  and  Anicet 
Bourgeois — Villiers'  fury — Letters  to  the  press — A 
summons — A  memorandum — Intervention  of  M.  de 
Villiers — Provocation — A  duel  arranged — Settlement 
on  the  ground — Result  of  the  action — Biographer's 
reservations — Documentary  evidence. 

OWARDS  the  autumn  of  1876,  at 
the  close  of  a  long  journey  in 
Switzerland,  I  returned  to  Paris, 
my  eyes  still  dazzled  by  the 
glamour  of  virgin  snows,  inaccessible  peaks, 
glistening  glaciers,  and  the  great  blue  lake 
wherein  melancholy  Chillon  reflects  its  gloomy 
keep.    Through  that  land  of  mountain,  fir- 


88  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

wood,  and  torrent,  the  spirit  of  my  father, 
whose  death  I  yet  mourned,  had  been  with 
me  everywhere,  teaching  me  the  better  to 
appreciate  and  admire  the  sublimity  of  those 
landscapes  for  which  he  had  always  had  a  sort 
of  passionate  fondness.  My  entry  into  France 
was  still  haunted  by  the  paternal  presence, 
and  I  hurried  to  the  old  Hotel  d' Orleans, 
where  we  had  spent  so  many  years  together, 
while  I,  alas  !  was  too  young  and  frivolous  to 
profit  by  the  counsels  of  that  wise  and  gene- 
rous mind.  Whether  it  was  by  chance,  or  by 
a  delicate  attention  on  the  part  of  the  old  host 
of  the  inn,  I  know  not,  but  I  was  given  my 
fathers  old  room,  and  my  first  night  was 
haunted  by  the  shadows  of  the  past.  During 
those  silent  watches  I  lived  through  many  an 
episode  of  my  schoolboy  days  again,  and  many 
familiar  faces  passed  before  my  eyes,  some 
faintly  looming  in  the  shadow  and  as  quickly 
disappearing,  others  clearly  outlined  and  con- 
stantly recurring.  Amongst  these  last,  the 
big  fair  head  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  con- 
stantly reappeared,  his  eyes  seeming  to  gaze 
on  me  intently,  and  to  reproach  me  with  my 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  89 

long  neglect.  Ah,  no !  I  had  not,  indeed, 
forgotten  him.  But  the  adventures  and  wor- 
ries of  life  had  up  to  this  prevented  me  from 
seeking  him  out,  and,  since  the  childish  days 
already  referred  to,  I  had  never  beheld  him. 
But  I  resolved  not  to  leave  Paris  this  time 
without  finding  him,  and  binding  our  two 
selves  together  with  bonds  as  strong  and  as 
affectionate  as  those  which  had  once  united 
him  and  my  father. 

The  next  evening,  before  the  dinner  hour, 
I  sought  him  along  the  boulevard.  Every 
habitue",  every  lounger,  from  the  Cafe  de  la 
Paix  to  the  Cafe  de  Madrid,  knew  Villiers  de 
Tlsle  Adam,  but  nobody  knew  where  he  lived, 
nor  could  tell  where  he  might  be  found.  He 
was,  so  they  said,  peculiarly  a  night-bird,  and 
almost  all  those  who  mentioned  him  to  me  had 
made  his  acquaintance  at  unearthly  hours, 
in  out-of-the-way  brasseries.  None  of  this 
information  was  of  much  service  to  me,  and  I 
was  beginning  rather  to  despair,  when  a  sud- 
den downpour  of  rain  drove  me  to  take  refuge 
in  the  entry  of  the  Passage  Gouffroy.  I  was 
mechanically  watching  the  play  of  light  and 


90  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

shade  caused  by  the  shower,  when  suddenly, 
and  without  an  instant's  hesitation,  in  spite  of 
the  lapse  of  years,  in  spite  of  the  change  which 
the  fight  for  existence  had  wrought  in  his 
appearance,  I  recognized  him  !  There  are 
some  strong  individualities  which  age,  care, 
even  sickness,  cannot  alter.  They  are  un- 
changeable.   And  Villiers  was  one  of  these. 

He  was  coming  into  the  passage  from  the 
rear,  a  big  bundle  of  manuscript  under  his 
arm,  with  that  elastic  yet  hesitating  tread  I 
so  well  remembered,  taking  quick,  short  steps, 
looking  preoccupied  and  flurried  at  once,  as 
he  passed  through  the  throng. 

Poor  great  poet !  judging  by  his  hat,  which 
was  worn  red  with  age,  the  thin  threadbare 
frock-coat  which  concealed  his  shirt,  the 
trousers  with  their  frayed  hem,  Fortune,  that 
jade,  had  treated  him  with  condign  scorn. 
What  matter!  As  he  came  towards  me,  I 
read  neither  discouragement  nor  despair  upon 
his  ageing  features.  There  was  the  same  pale 
uncertain  blue  eye,  lost  in  its  dream,  and 
beneath  the  fair  moustache,  already  turning 
grey,  the  full  mouth  smiled  as  at  some  secret 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  91 

vision.  He  was,  in  good  sooth,  far  from  earth 
at  that  moment,  and  there  seemed  to  me  some- 
thing proud  and  noble,  amidst  that  jostling, 
pushing  crowd  of  wet,  muddy,  common-look- 
ing passers-by,  in  the  scornful  indifference  of 
the  great  thinker  to  the  human  rabble  through 
which  he  passed,  all  unseeing,  like  the  sleep- 
walker of  some  oriental  tale. 

As  he  drew  near  to  me,  the  memory  of  our 
first  meeting  in  the  dining-room  of  the  old 
house  at  Fougeres  came  back  to  me,  and 
touching  his  shoulder  gently,  I  addressed  him 
with  a  slight  variation  of  the  words  he  used 
when  he  found  me,  a  child  in  disgrace,  eating 
my  solitary  breakfast  at  the  deserted  family 
board  :  "  Good  morning,  cousin  !  you  don't 
know  me.    I  am  your  cousin  Robert !" 

He  started  like  a  man  suddenly  roused  from 
sleep,  and  raised  his  eyes  to  mine.  His  usually 
lustreless  glance  brightened  ;  we  fell  into  each 
other's  arms,  and  embraced  shamelessly  coram 
populo.  Doubtless  Heaven  smiled  on  our  re- 
union, for  the  setting  sun  was  making  the 
wet  pavements  and  roofs  shine  again,  as  arm 
in  arm  we  went  out  upon  the  boulevards. 


92  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

It  was  during  that  first  evening's  converse, 
which  cemented  the  friendship  of  our  man- 
hood's years,  that  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam 
recounted  to  me  the  earlier  stages  of  the 
strange  action  which  he  was  about  to  bring 
against  the  Lockroy  family  and  the  heirs  of 
the  melodramatic  playwright,  Anicet  Bour- 
geois —  a  most  fantastic  lawsuit,  which 
amused  and  interested  all  Paris  for  several 
months,  and  of  which  I  desire  now  to  relate 
the  apparently  improbable  incidents. 

It  happened,  then,  one  winter  evening  in 
1876,  that  my  cousin  Matthias  was  dreaming 
along  the  Boulevard  du  Crime,  when,  as  he 
passed  before  the  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre, 
its  facade,  lighted  up  as  it  usually  was  on 
important  occasions,  attracted  his  attention. 
He  drew  near  to  the  advertisement  boards, 
and  started  on  seeing,  below  the  title  of  the 
play  of  which  a  reproduction  was  to  be  given 
that  night,  "  Perrinet  Leclerc,"  an  historical 
drama  in  five  acts,  by  Messrs.  Lockroy  and 
Anicet  Bourgeois,  the  name  of  his  own  illus- 
trious ancestor,  the  Marshal  Jean  de  Villiers 
de  l'lsle  Adam,  occupying  a  line  by  itself. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  93 

"  What !  "  roared  the  poet,  "  they  have  put 
the  glorious  marshal  on  the  stage  unknown 
to  me?  Ha!  ha!  We'll  have  some  fun!" 
and  he  hastened  to  the  box  office. 

The  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre  was  at  that 
time  under  the  management  of  a  very  worthy 
fellow  of  the  name  of  Paul  Cleves,  who  had 
been  in  his  time  a  good  actor,  and  who, 
though  not  literary  himself,  was  full  of 
respectful  admiration  for  the  literary  merits 
of  others.  He  had  a  reverence  not  unmixed 
with  awe  for  the  eccentric  genius  of  Villiers, 
and  the  moment  he  saw  him  he  hurried  with 
outstretched  hands  to  meet  him  and  place 
him  *in  the  managerial  box,  so  that  he  might 
not  lose  a  word  nor  a  gesture  of  the  aclor 
personifying  that  famous  warrior  whose  de- 
scendant the  poet  was.  But,  after  the  second 
act,  Villiers  reappeared  in  the  unfortunate 
Cleves'  private  room,  pale,  trembling,  and 
bristling  with  fury.  "  Sir !  "  he  cried,  with  a 
tragic  gesture,  "two  ignorant  and  conceited 
clowns,  Lockroy  and  Bourgeois,  have  en- 
deavoured to  degrade  one  of  the  most  illus- 
trious  warriors  of  the  fourteenth  century, 


94  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

whose  name  it  is  my  glory  to  bear,  and 
whose  reputation  it  is  my  duty  to  defend! 
You  have  allowed  this  infamy  to  be  com- 
mitted, and  I  call  upon  you,  sir,  to  withdraw 
the  play  to-morrow." 

f<  But,  my  dear  Villiers,  it  is  impossible ! " 
cried  Cleves,  when  he  had  recovered  from  his 
profound  astonishment,  "consider!  it  would  be 
my  ruin.  It  would  be  certain  bankruptcy ! 
my  engagements  " 

"Ruin,  bankruptcy,  engagements!  These 
are  nothing  to  me.  You  should  have 
warned  me  before  you  accepted  this  non- 
sensical stuff." 

"  I  never  accepted  it.  It  has  been  in  the 
repertory  since  1834  !  " 

"  Enough,  sir.  I  understand  you  to  refuse  ? 
Very  good,  I  shall  apply  to  the  authors — the 
authors,  I  say.    Where  are  the  authors  ?  " 

"  They  are  dead  !" 

"Well  for  them!  But  they  must  have  left 
children,  heirs,  representatives.  That  cur, 
that  Simon,  whose  name  is  not  even  Lockroy, 
has  a  descendant  who  has  made  stir  enough  in 
this  third  Republic  of  yours  !   Well,  we  shall 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  95 

see !  For  the  last  time,  Cleves,  do  you  refuse 
to  withdraw  the  play  ?  " 

The  unlucky  manager  had  become  speech- 
less, but  he  made  a  sign  with  his  head  which 
seemed  to  signify  that  it  was  impossible  to 
grant  such  a  request. 

"  Very  well,  then,"  said  the  poet,  "  you 
and  your  accomplices  shall  hear  from  me !  '* 
And  he  went  out  in  a  fury. 

Those  who  can  recollect  Villiers  de  Flsle 
Adam's  idolatrous  worship  for  the  memory  of 
his  ancestors  will  understand  this  outbreak  of 
rage  when  I  state  that  this  unlucky  so-called 
historical  drama  by  Messrs.  Lockroy  and 
Bourgeois  represented  the  Marechal  de  Flsle 
Adam  as  a  disloyal  nobleman  and  an  abomi- 
nable traitor — traitor,  not  in  favour  of  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy,  nor  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans, 
but  traitor  to  his  own  country,  to  his  poor 
mad  king,  delivering  both  over  to  the  English 
power,  and  aiding  Henry  V.  to  place  upon  his 
own  head  the  crown  torn  from  that  of  the 
rightful  sovereign.  All  this  was  absolutely 
contrary  to  the  truth.  Jean  de  Flsle  Adam, 
the  friend  and  right-hand  man  of  the  Duke 


96  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

of  Burgundy,  was,  it  is  true,  the  most  ardent 
partisan  of  John  the  Bold,  and  took  possession 
of  Paris  in  his  name.  As  to  the  English, 
Jean  refused  the  splendid  offers  of  Henry  V., 
who  cast  him  into  the  Bastille,  whence  he 
only  emerged  after  that  prince's  death. 
Thenceforward  he  warred  ceaselessly  against 
the  British,  from  whom  he  recaptured  Pon- 
toise  in  1435.  Such  are  the  historical  facts 
of  the  case.  But  the  authors  of  "  Perrinet 
Leclerc"  cared  little  for  that.  To  those 
makers  of  melodramas,  history  was  but  a 
mine  to  supply  their  own  lack  of  imagina- 
tion, and  its  personages  merely  obliging 
dummies,  to  be  dressed  up  in  glory  or 
infamy,  according  to  the  needs  of  their  case. 
They  wanted  a  traitor,  and  they  simply  took 
Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam,  in  all  good  faith, 
never  dreaming  that  there  would  appear,  five 
hundred  years  after  the  fulfilment  of  the 
events  they  were  putting  on  the  stage,  in  this 
fin-de-siecle  and  gaping  Paris  of  ours,  a  poet 
who  was  ready  to  make  himself  the  champion 
and  the  vigorous  defender  of  his  outraged 
ancestor ! 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  97 

Never  did  Villiers  show  such  activity,  such 
physical  and  moral  energy,  as  in  the  course  of 
this  business.  For  my  own  part,  my  know- 
ledge of  him  leads  me  to  the  opinion  that,  in 
spite  of  all  his  indignation,  he  rather  enjoyed 
the  adventure.  The  excitement  of  the  judi- 
cial struggle,  the  newspaper  polemics,  the 
ransacking  of  libraries  both  far  and  near,  put 
a  new  interest  into  his  life,  and  freed  his  mind 
for  a  while  from  the  dreams  which  so  inces- 
santly haunted  it.  And  that  arch-scoffer  must 
have  felt  a  curious  secret  amusement  in 
obliging  all  that  army  of  solicitors,  barristers, 
judges,  and  their  deputies,  to  occupy  them- 
selves with  the  affairs  of  an  illustrious  old 
gentleman  who  had  been  dead  for  four  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years,  to  decipher  the  quaint 
and  incomprehensible  manuscripts  of  the 
thirteenth  century,  and  to  busy  themselves, 
under  the  reign  of  Grevy,  Wilson,  and 
Co.,  with  the  concerns  of  Charles  VI.  the 
Bienaime,  of  John  the  Bold,  and  of  the  fatally 
fascinating  Isabeau  of  Bavaria. 

But  to  begin  at  the  beginning.  The  very 
morning  after  that  memorable  performance, 

H 


98  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

there  appeared  in  several  daily  papers  a 
haughty  and  indignant  letter  from  the  last  of 
the  De  l'lsle  Adams,  in  which  he  brilliantly 
vindicated  his  right  to  defend  his  illustrious 
relative  from  opprobrium.  He  blasted  in  a  few 
scorching  phrases,  conceived  in  ineffable  scorn 
for  all  dealers  in  such  second-hand  literary 
wares,  the  work  of  the  two  unlucky  collabora- 
tors ;  and  he  finally  declared  that  he  was 
about  to  appeal  to  the  laws  of  the  country  to 
obtain  for  them  the  chastisement  of  their 
crime  of  treason  against  the  national  glory. 
There  was  much  giggling  along  the  boule- 
vards at  the  poet's  new  freak.  The  collateral 
heirs  of  the  acting  rights  of  the  play  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  his  threat,  and  "  Perrinet  Leclerc  " 
still  held  the  bills,  its  success  much  increased 
by  this  fresh  puff.  Forward,  then,  the 
officers,  the  formalities,  the  dusty  papers,  all 
the  creaking  machinery  of  the  law  !  A  clever 
and  intelligent  young  barrister,  an  acquain- 
tance of  Villiers,  eagerly  seized  on  this  oppor- 
tunity of  distinguishing  himself;  for  this  action 
was  to  stir  both  the  law  courts  and  the  boule- 
vards, and  those  who  had  to  do  with  it  soon 
became  famous. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  99 

The  representatives  of  Lockroy  and  of 
Anicet  Bourgeois  had  to  file  their  answer  to 
the  summons  duly  served  upon  them — a  sum- 
mons praying  that  they  might  be  forbidden  to 
continue  the  performances  of  a  play  wherein 
they  libelled  and  calumniated  the  direct  ances- 
tor of  the  plaintiff,  "  the  said  Philippe  Auguste 
Matthias  de  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  man  of 
letters,  which  summons  has  been  personally 
delivered  at  the  defendants'  house.  Here- 
with a  copy,  whereof  the  price,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

The  defendants'  answer  was  rather  clever. 
They  asked  the  tribunal  to  rule  that  the 
plaintiff's  plea  was  inadmissible  :  firstly,  be- 
cause he  offered  no  proof  of  his  boasted  direct 
descent  from  the  illustrious  house  of  Villiers 
de  l'lsle  Adam  ;  secondly,  because  the  chro- 
nicles of  the  time,  and  notably  that  of  the  Monk 
of  St.  Denis,  authorized  the  writers  of  "  Per- 
rinet  Leclerc  "  in  presenting  the  conduct  of 
the  Marshal  de  l'lsle  Adam  during  the  civil 
wars  of  the  reign  of  Charles  VI.  in  an  un- 
favourable light ;  thirdly,  because  the  said 
Marshal  de  l'lsle  Adam  being  an  historical 
personage,  any  writer  might  criticise  or  praise 


ioo         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

him,  according  to  conscience  or  personal 
opinion,  without  being  liable  to  any  action  on 
that  score.    Thus  the  fight  began. 

And  now,  for  some  weeks,  Matthias  was 
undiscoverable.  He  buried  himself  in  the 
libraries  and  the  archives,  amongst  which  his 
clear  mind  called  up  all  that  gloomy  and 
romantic  period  which  began  at  the  infancy 
of  Charles  VI.  and  ended  on  the  day  when 
Jeanne  d' Arc  led  the  weak-kneed  Charles  VI  I. 
to  Rheims,  to  be  anointed  king.  When  the 
lawsuit  began,  nothing  remained  to  Villiers 
of  the  family  inheritance.  Pressed  by  poverty, 
father  and  son  had  parted  with  everything ; 
but  they  still  preserved  the  precious  family 
archives,  and  the  poet  possessed  irrefragable 
proof  of  his  descent. 

When,  therefore,  he  had  sufficiently  studied 
the  formidable  heap  of  documents  bearing  on 
the  ten  years  of  civil  war  which  stained  the 
close  of  the  reign  of  Charles  VI.,  he  prayed 
leave  to  support  his  request  against  the 
authors  of  "  Perrinet  Leclerc  "  :  firstly,  by  the 
proof,  resting  on  authentic  records,  of  his  de- 
scent from  that  Marshal  de  l'lsle  Adam  whose 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


honour  he  claimed  to  defend  ;  secondly,  by 
proving  that  no  contemporary  chronicler  gave 
to  his  ancestor  that  odious  character  which 
Messrs.  Lockroy  and  Bourgeois  had  dared  to 
make  him  play  in  the  history  of  his  time. 
And,  he  added,  if  it  was  true  that  the  so-called 
Chronicle  of  the  Monk  of  St.  Denis  did  con- 
tain a  sentence  which  permitted  any  doubt  on 
that  score,  it  was  established,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  these  memoirs  had  no  character 
for  authenticity,  that  they  were  held  in  sus- 
picion by  all  competent  historians,  and  that, 
in  any  case,  it  was  sufficient  to  read  the  manu- 
script to  be  convinced  that  it  was  a  partial 
work,  and  that  its  author  belonged  to  that 
faction  which  was  hostile  to  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  the  friend  of  De  l'lsle  Adam. 

To  this  second  appeal  Villiers  added  a  long 
memorandum,  addressed  to  the  judges.  I  do 
not  know  what  has  become  of  this  manuscript. 
I  hope  that  those  persons  who  have  under- 
taken, with  so  much  zeal  and  devotion,  the 
posthumous  publication  of  the  works  of  the 
author  of  "Axel,"  may  have  it  in  their  pos- 
session.   In  it  the  great  writer  appears  in  a 


io2         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

new  light.  This  sketch  of  the  life  of  the 
Marshal  de  l'lsle  Adam  is  a  masterpiece  of 
clearness  and  style,  a  gifted  and  magnificent 
word-picture  of  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, a  strong  and  closely-reasoned  piece  of 
work,  in  which  the  fervent  eloquence  of  his 
pleading  for  the  thesis  he  defends  never  fetters 
the  critical  and  investigating  faculty  of  its 
author. 

Thus  matters  stood  when  I  joined  Villiers 
in  Paris.  The  adversaries  were  armed  at  all 
points,  and  only  waited  the  close  of  the  vaca- 
tion to  go  before  the  courts. 

All  at  once,  an  unexpected  event,  a  tragi- 
comic incident,  gave  a  fresh  interest  to  the 
affair. 

I  have  related,  in  the  early  pages  of  these 
recollections,  how  a  family  bearing  the  name 
of  Villiers,  but  which  had  shown  no  proof  of 
direct;  descent  from  the  Grand  Master  of  the 
Knights  of  Malta,  had  been  authorized,  at  the 
time  of  the  return  of  the  Bourbons,  to  add  the 
name  of  L'lsle  Adam  to  its  own  patronymic. 
Just  as  our  Villiers  was  emerging  from  his 
tent,  armed  cap  a  pi£y  and  lance  in  rest,  to 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  103 

defend  his  ancestral  glory  and  good  fame 
against  the  calumnies  of  two  playwrights,  the 
representative  of  this  other  family,  a  young 
officer,  very  proud  of  the  great  name  he  bore, 
and  exceedingly  ignorant,  as  it  seems,  of  his 
real  origin,  returned  from  Africa.  Honestly 
believing  himself  the  scion  of  those  heroes 
who  had  shed  glory  on  the  name  of  De  l'lsle 
Adam,  his  rage  and  stupefaction  may  be 
imagined  when,  hardly  had  he  arrived  home, 
ere  his  friends  and  relations  placed  before  him 
various  newspapers,  which  reported  with  much 
comment,  and  wit  seasoned  with  Attic  salt,  the 
particulars  of  the  action  brought  by  the  high- 
born poet  against  the  guilty  authors  of  "  Per- 
rinet  Leclerc."  Incredible  as  it  seems  in 
these  days,  when  the  press  penetrates  every- 
where, the  young  warrior  appears  to  have 
ignored  till  then  the  existence  of  one  of  the 
best-known  literary  men  in  Paris.  He  fancied 
the  author  of  "  I  sis  "  to  be  some  scribbling 
adventurer  who  had  picked  up  for  himself,  out 
of  history,  a  name  which  he  believed  to  be  ex- 
tinct. In  the  heat  of  his  indignation,  he  wrote 
a  letter  to  a  great  daily  paper,  and  as  the 


io4         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

officer  knew  more  about  the  cavalry  sword- 
exercise  than  about  the  amenities  of  our 
beautiful  French  language,  his  communication 
was  at  once  plain-spoken,  rude,  and  aggres- 
sive, claiming  his  right  to  bear  the  name  of 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  and  avowing  that 
any  other  person  calling  himself  by  that 
name  usurped  it.  This  warlike  missive  soon 
appeared,  and  forthwith  all  the  venomous 
small  fry  of  the  press,  all  the  envious  scrib- 
blers, all  the  failures  whom  Villiers'  talent 
had  overshadowed,  and  whom  his  bitter  jests 
had  wounded,  pounced  upon  this  lucky  wind- 
fall. Along  the  boulevards,  from  the  Made- 
leine to  the  Gymnase,  at  the  hour  of  the 
absinthe  queen,  their  little  poisonous  speeches 
were  to  be  heard  on  every  side  :  "  That  poor 
Villiers!  Don't  you  know? — Not  De  ITsle 
Adam  at  all ! — It  was  a  name  he  took  ! — / 
always  thought  so  ! — It  seems  he  is  really  the 
son  of  a  small  grocer  at  Guingamp." 

Ah  !  why  cannot  we  sear  the  lips  of  slan- 
derers with  a  red-hot  iron  ?  Shame  on  those 
dastards !  for  this  time  at  least  they  managed 
to  pierce  my  friend  to  the  heart.    All  those 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  105 

who  knew  him  well,  knew  that  beneath  his 
strange  exterior  and  his  cold  mask  of  scorn 
Villiers  had  a  noble  ardent  soul,  which  must 
have  suffered  cruelly  under  the  thousand 
anonymous  stings  which  were  inflicted  on  his 
pride.  But  the  blood  of  the  marshal  and  the 
grand  master  boiled  in  his  veins,  and  on  the 
very  day  of  the  insult  the  officer  was  waited 
upon  by  two  poet-friends  of  the  writer,  who 
came  from  the  Comte  Philippe  Auguste  de 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  to  demand  reparation 
for  the  outrage  offered  to  their  principal. 
The  adversary  was  brave,  and  accepted 
without  flinching  the  meeting  which  was 
proposed  to  him ;  and  the  seconds  having 
conferred,  it  was  arranged  that  all  should  go, 
armed  with  swords,  the  day  after  the  next 
following,  on  a  little  expedition  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Vesinet.  Meanwhile,  one  of  the 
seconds  of  Matthias,  a  sensible  man,  though 
a  violent  Parnassian,  struck  by  the  exceed- 
ingly correct  demeanour  of  the  other  party, 
thought  it  might  not  be  altogether  useless  to 
submit  to  him  certain  genealogical  proofs 
which  would  demonstrate  to  him  that  right 


106         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

was  not  altogether  on  his  side,  as  he  fancied. 
After  a  severe  struggle  he  induced  Villiers  to 
lend  him  those  famous  and  precious  family 
documents  for  the  space  of  twenty-four  hours, 
and  sent  them  to  the  cavalry  lieutenant  with 
an  urgent  request  that  he  would  read  them 
before  the  hour  fixed  for  the  meeting.  The 
result  was  amazing.  M.  de  Villiers  was  a 
loyal,  good-hearted,  and  very  chivalrous  man. 
He  appeared  on  the  ground  at  the  appointed 
hour,  advanced  towards  the  real  Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam,  made  him  a  bow,  and  offered 
him  the  most  courteous  apology,  adding  that 
it  was  only  on  the  preceding  evening  that  he 
had  learnt  the  truth.  It  was  worth  hearing 
Villiers,  with  his  tragic  gestures,  and  the  per- 
petual wagging  of  his  front  fair  lock,  retail 
the  incidents  of  this  coup  de  thidtre.  "Sir!" 
he  would  cry,  "  my  sword  dropped  from  my 
hand,  when  I  heard  this  pale  young  man,  with 
his  brave  and  resigned  face,  tell  me,  with  an 
evident  effort,  that,  French  officer  as  he  was, 
he  would  rather  pass  for  a  coward  than  fight 
in  support  of  a  lie.  I  opened  my  arms.  I 
folded  him  to  my  heart.    I  told  him  he  was 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  107 

worthy  to  be  allied  with  the  illustrious  dead 
whose  representative  I  was ;  and  in  my 
fathers  name  and  my  own,  I  authorized,  nay, 
I  besought  him  to  continue  to  bear  the  name 
of  Villiers  de  l'Isle  Adam!" 

But  everything,  even  lawsuits,  must  come 
to  an  end ;  and  one  fine  morning  the  judges 
gave  their  decision  in  the  extraordinary 
case  of  "  L'Isle  Adam  versus  Simon,  alias 
Lockroy,  and  Anicet  Bourgeois."  As  my 
reader  will  be  prepared  to  learn,  the  tribunal 
refused  the  poor  poet's  appeal,  deeming  it 
inadmissible  because,  as  the  marshal  was 
historical  property,  every  author  had  a  right 
to  show  him  in  whatever  light  suited  him 
best ;  especially  when  he  based  his  judgment, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  writers  of  "Perrinet 
Leclerc,"  on  the  evidence  of  contemporary 
documents  and  memoirs,  such  as  the  Chronicle 
of  the  Monk  of  St.  Denis.  But  one  conso- 
lation Villiers  had.  The  preamble  of  the 
judgment  established  those  direct  ties  of 
descent  which  made  him  the  last  represen- 
tative of  that  famous  and  heroic  warrior  who 
was  the  friend  of  the  great  Duke  of  Burgundy. 


108         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

When  I  learnt  these  events  from  the  poet's 
lips,  they  were  already  in  the  limbo  of  the 
past. 

Were  I  not  possessed  with  an  instinctive 
and  not  altogether  unreasonable  horror  of 
foot-notes,  I  would  inflict  one  on  my  readers, 
a  propos  to  this  trial,  to  state  that  I  have 
related  the  whole  of  it  from  recollection — a 
recollection  graven  upon  my  memory  by  the 
picturesque  recitals  of  my  gifted  and  much 
regretted  cousin.  In  thus  summing  up,  with- 
out actually  vouching  for  the  facts  of  the 
story,  I  trust  I  have  not  trangressed  in  any 
particular  against  the  truth.  But  in  any  case 
I  shall  be  very  glad  to  accept  any  verification 
which  may  be  kindly  submitted  to  me. 

I  think  further,  that  I  shall  do  no  preju- 
dice to  the  memory  of  Villiers,  if  I  frankly 
confess  that  I  entertain  some  serious  doubt 
concerning  the  alleged  handsome  retraction 
made  by  his  opponent  on  the  scene  of 
the  intended  duel.  The  poet  was  in  the 
habit  of  dramatizing  all  the  incidents  of  his 
daily  life  into  enchanting  stories.  Their 
groundwork    was   generally   true,    but  he 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  109 

would  arrange  the  scene,  invent  incidents, 
and  create  personages,  in  obedience  appa- 
rently to  his  aesthetic  instinct,  or  perhaps 
rather  to  his  wild  innate  longing  to  mystify 
his  audience.  In  this  particular  case  my 
suspicion  is  supported  by  the  following  suc- 
cinct and  nobly-expressed  letter,  addressed  to 
him  by  his  adversary,  and  which,  necessarily, 
put  an  end  to  their  difference.  At  all  events 
this  document  proves  that  our  author  was  in 
the  right. 

"  Paris, 

11  February  16th,  1877. 

"Sir, 

"  I  can  only  bow  before  the  incontest- 
ably  authentic  title-deeds  which  you  have 
been  so  good  as  to  communicate  to  me,  and 
which  indeed  establish  unanswerably  your 
descent  from  that  family  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  whose  name  is  written  in  such  glorious 
characters  upon  the  pages  of  our  history,  and 
in  whose  ranks  figures  the  Marshal  Jean, 
whose  memory,  in  spite  of  what  anyone  may 
say,  remains  above  all  suspicion. 

"  This  does  not,  however,  alter  the  fact  that 


no         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


a  royal  ordinance,  dated  September  7,  1815, 
and  inserted  in  the  '  Bulletin  des  Lois,'  autho- 
rizes my  grandfather,  Vicomte  Joseph-Gabriel, 
son  of  Francois-  Ignace  de  Villiers  des  Champs, 
and  of  Dame  Deshere  le  Borgue  de  Villement, 
his  wife,  to  add  to  his  name  of  Villiers  that  of 
De  Tlsle  Adam. 

"  There  appears  to  me  to  be  no  object  to 
be  gained  by  going  into  the  genealogy  of  my 
family,  which  has  given  knights  and  com- 
manders to  the  Order  of  St.  Louis  and 
marshals  to  France, — which  is  allied  to  the 
Rohans,  etc.,  etc. 

"And,  in  conclusion,  if,  contrary  to  my 
expectations,  the  explanations  contained  in 
this  letter  do  not  appear  to  you  to  suffice, 
pray  be  assured  that  I  hold  myself  entirely 
at  your  disposal. 

[Signed)  "  G.  Villiers  de  l'Isle  Adam." 

While  I  am  about  quoting  the  documents 
bearing  on  this  curious  business,  the  reader 
may  be  glad  that  I  should  conclude  by  giving 
the  principal  passages  of  the  fine  letter  written 
by  Villiers  to  the  newspapers  of  the  day,  in 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  in 

answer  to  the  mean  and  spiteful  attacks  of 
which  he  was  then  the  object. 

"Paris  (undated,  probably  January,  1877). 

"  To  the  Editor  of  

"  Sir, 

"  This  is  my  answer  to  the  article  you 
have  published  concerning  me.  I  desire  that 
it  may  suffice  for  all  those  of  your  colleagues 
of  the  press,  who  have  been  good  enough  to 
devote  their  precious  time  to  me,  and  busy 
themselves  with  my  name,  during  the  past 
week. 

"It  has  been  claimed  that  my  sole  object 
in  bringing  an  action  against  the  proprietors 
of  the  play  '  Perrinet  Leclerc,'  was  to  establish 
the  genealogical  succession  of  my  own  family. 
Now  I  may  remark  that  for  eight-and-thirty 
years  I  committed  the  grave  indiscretion  of 
never  giving  that  question  a  thought,  believ- 
ing it  (with  others  whose  duty  calls  them  to 
consider  it)  so  clearly  established  that  I  could 
afford  to  smile  at  any  discussion  of  the  sub- 
ject.   I  may  further  remark  that  it  was  only 


ii2         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


the  request  of  counsel  on  the  other  side 
which  obliged  me  to  produce  any  such  proofs 
at  all.  It  seems  strange,  then,  that  this  re- 
proach should  be  made  to  me  by  the  very 
adversaries  who  attacked  me  on  this  point  at 
the  moment  when  I  myself  was  about  to 
desist  from  the  struggle. 

"It  has  been  asserted  that  there  is  a  gap  in 
the  sequence  of  my  family  genealogy.  Now 
genealogy  is  an  exa6l  science,  which  no  more 
admits  of  a  mistake  than  does  algebra.  In  it 
'  five  centuries  '  mean  nothing.  They  should 
have  been  described  as  ' twelve  generations.' 

"  The  records  of  the  Order  of  Malta,  in 
which  the  whole  nobility  of  France  and  of 
Europe  are  concerned,  are  indisputable  evi- 
dence all  over  the  world,  and  that  Order  would 
not  give  a  careless  decision  concerning  the 
descendants  of  a  Grand  Master  such  as  the 
one  whose  name  I  bear. 

"  That  a  clerk  should  write  a  3  instead  of  a 
9  on  the  hasty  copy  of  a  title  of  the  order, 
and  that  (in  spite  of  the  opportunities  given 
by  me  during  two  years  for  free  and  open 
investigation)  such  an  error  should  be  quoted 


VILLIERS  DE  D'ISLE  ADAM.  113 

against  the  absolute  authoritativeness  of  my 
title-deeds,  is,  I  repeat,  merely  a  matter  cal- 
culated to  raise  a  smile.  In  any  case,  I  shall 
bring  the  facts  before  the  French  Record 
Office. 

"  I  descend  from  Jean  de  Flsle  Adam  as 
directly  as  any  of  you  gentlemen  descends 
from  his  own  father ;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
' Chronique  de  St.  Denis,'  I  have  some  reason 
to  be  proud  of  the  fact. 

"  I  am  asked  what  interest  I  had  in  vexing 
my  soul  concerning  a  play  which  outrages  his 
pure  and  sacred  memory ;  and  it  is  affirmed 
that  I  simply  desired  to  puff  myself  by  doing 
so.  A  man  is  but  that  which  his  own  thoughts 
make  him.  And  for  my  only  answer,  I 
would  beg  those  who  have  had  this  thought 
concerning  me,  to  guard  it  preciously.  They 
are  quite  worthy  of  it,  and  I  shall  never  care 
to  claim  either  their  sympathy  or  esteem.  .  .  . 

"  There  is  as  much  truth  in  this  assertion 
as  in  that  which  claims  to  have  discovered  a 
gap  in  the  direct:  succession  of  my  family 
about  the  year  1535.  It  is  a  wonderful  thing 
to  note  how  lightheartedly  a  lawyer  will  cast 

1 


ii4         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

doubt  on  the  records  of  the  Order  of  Malta, 
which  are  an  article  of  faith  to  the  nobility  of 
the  whole  world  :  on  the  signed  attestations 
whereby  provincial  bishops  have  recognized 
three  centuries  of  publicly-admitted  family 
rights  ;  on  the  signatures  of  ambassadors  and 
consuls,  both  French  and  English  ;  and  on 
that  of  the  Minister  of  Justice  himself! 

"  I  have  no  right  to  submit  myself  to  any 
leeal  investigation  on  this  head.  An  inves- 
delation  of  what  ?  Of  mv  claims  to  be  of 
noble  descent  ?  But  the  only  course  left  to 
the  law  courts  themselves  must  be  to  bow  to 
those  claims,  which  are  established  by  the 
only  tribunal  to  which  I  can  in  honour  appeal. 
One  alone,  amon^  the  signatures  with  which 
these  parchments  swarm,  suffices  to  prove 
my  contention.  The  text  of  the  1  Declaration 
of  the  Order  of  Malta'  runs  as  follows: 
'  Xotum  facimus  et  in  verbo  veritatis  attes- 
tamur  ut  in  judicio  pleno  ac  indubia  fides 
adhibeatur.  .  .  . 

"  '  We  declare  under  our  seal  and  that  of  the 
Papal  Bull  published  this  day,  that  Armand 
de  FIsle  Adam,  admitted  a  knight  of  this 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  115 

Order,  has  proved  his  quarterings  in  the 
most  indisputable  manner. 

" ( We,  Caumartin,  Intendant  de  Cham- 
pagne, bear  witness  to  the  correctness  of  the 
genealogy  of,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

a<We,  Bishop  of  St.  Brieuc,  ourselves  con- 
nected through  the  family  of  De  Verdalle 
with  the  Knights  of  Malta,  bear  witness 
that  for  the  last  three  hundred  years  it  has 
been  matter  of  public  notoriety  that,  etc., 
etc.,  etc.' 

"  How  can  you  expect  any  law  court  to 
pronounce  for  or  against,  in  such  a  matter  ? 
How  can  any  newspaper  chatter  affect  it  ? 
Centuries  have  rolled  by.  You  come  in  too 
late.    These  are  accomplished  facts  !  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 


Le  Pin  Galant,  near  Bordeaux — Arrival  of  Villiers 
with  his  play — "The  New  World" — The  American 
centenary  competition — The  character  of  Mistress 
Andrews — The  legend  of  Ralph  Evandale. 

HILE  Villiers  was  thus  struggling 
with  the  gentlemen  of  the  wig  and 
gown  in  the  Paris  law  courts,  I 
followed  his  movements  from  afar 
with  considerable  anxiety.  In  my  retirement 
in  one  of  those  pretty  one-storied  houses 
near  Bordeaux  which  the  people  in  the  south 
poetically  term  a  "  Chartreuse,"  I  trembled  as 
I  tore  asunder  the  wrapper  of  my  Paris  paper 
every  morning,  lest  I  should  learn  that  Vil- 
liers, whose  fearfully  over-excited  condition 
was  well  known  to  me,  had  given  way  to 
some  eccentricity  or  some  dangerous  aci  of 
violence.    I  kept  on  writing  to  beseech  him 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  117 

to  leave  Paris,  and  to  come  and  share  my 
solitude,  redolent  of  the  healthy  odour  of 
the  pine  forests,  enlivened  by  the  impetuous 
rush  of  the  great  river  dotted  with  white  and 
fluttering  sails,  and  ideal  with  its  spreading 
horizons  bathed  in  the  purple  and  gold  of  the 
exquisite  southern  sunsets. 

But,  alas !  he  wrapped  himself  in  dis- 
heartening silence,  and  his  shadow  fell  not 
on  the  snow-white  steps  which  led  to  the 
Pin  Galant,  as  my  temporary  dwelling  was 
called. 

One  day,  however,  the  "  Figaro  "  brought 
me  news  of  his  speedy  arrival,  in  the  form  of 
a  letter  published  on  its  first  page,  and  bear- 
ing his  signature.  I  have  not  this  document 
before  me,  but  I  know  that  in  it  he  refuted, 
in  his  usual  sarcastic  style,  some  fresh  per- 
fidious insinuation  concerning  the  imperfect 
authenticity  of  the  name  he  bore.  The 
last  sentence  of  the  letter,  however,  which 
gave  me  a  lively  thrill  of  joy,  is  for  ever 
graven  on  my  memory.  I  quote  it,  as  being 
exceedingly  characteristic.  "  I  am  on  the 
point  of  starting  for  Pin  Galant,    not  far 


n8         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

from  the  Spanish  frontier.  Lovers  of  another 
style  of  conversation,  more  silent  than  that  of 
human  tongues,  are  requested  to  note  this 
fa&." 

He  duly  appeared  a  few  days  later,  without 
having  otherwise  announced  himself. 

It  was  on  one  of  those  torrid  afternoons 
known  only  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  south, 
that  Villiers  arrived  on  foot  from  the  neigh- 
bouring village,  whither  the  omnibus  from 
Bordeaux  had  brought  him.  He  was  simply 
dressed,  in  black  kerseymere  trousers,  a  loose 
grey  overcoat  trimmed  with  fur  ( ! ),  and  a 
well-worn  but  shiny  chimneypot  hat.  In  his 
hand  he  victoriously  flourished  a  huge  walk- 
ing-stick. The  big  pockets  of  his  unseason- 
ably thick  overcoat  bulged  in  a  manner  which 
alarmed  me  for  their  solidity.  At  first  I 
thought  he  was  using  them  as  a  carpet-bag, 
for  he  brought  no  sign  of  any  other  luggage 
with  him.  But  my  mistake  only  lasted  a  few 
minutes.  Hardly  had  he  entered,  when, 
after  the  first  cordial  greetings,  he  pulled  out 
of  his  vast  pockets  five  thick  manuscript 
pamphlets,  piling  them  one  upon  the  other, 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  119 

and  his  white,  prelatical  hand  waving  with 
the  air  of  a  bishop  a  sort  of  benedictory 
gesture,  he  exclaimed,  "  Like  Columbus  at 
the  feet  of  his  Spanish  sovereign,  even  so  lay 
I  the  'New  World'  at  the  feet  of  your 
majesty  and  my  good  cousin  ! "  The  books 
contained,  in  good  truth,  the  manuscript  of 
his  magnificent  drama  in  five  acts,  entitled 
"Le  Nouveau  Monde,"  which  had  gained 
the  first  place,  the  year  before,  in  the  com- 
petition instituted  in  honour  of  the  United 
States,  but  which  had  not  yet  found  an 
opening  on  the  Parisian  stage. 

Before  relating  the  adventures  of  Villiers 
and  his  manuscript  at  Bordeaux,  I  think  it 
will  be  of  interest  to  scholars  if  I  give  some 
explanation  of  the  origin  of  this  dramatic 
work,  which,  in  spite  of  its  admirable  qualities, 
is  almost  unknown  at  this  present  time.  In 
1880  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  found  a  pub- 
lisher bold  enough  to  issue  it  at  his  own  risk, 
and  his  name  deserves  to  be  recorded.  It 
was  M.  Richard,  printer  and  publisher,  of 
the  Passage  de  T Opera.  The  pamphlet  is 
now  almost  out  of  print.    Villiers  had  pre- 


120         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

ceded  his  play  by  an  "  Address  to  the 
Reader,"  to  which  I  shall  return  later,  in 
its  proper  time  and  place,  and  by  a  very 
short  preface,  which  I  quote  in  its  entirety, 
because  it  explains  far  better  than  I  could 
the  peculiar  circumstances  which  gave  birth 
to  the  work. 

"  In  1875  a  dramatic  competition  was  an- 
nounced by  the  theatrical  press  of  Paris.  A 
medal  of  honour,  even  a  sum  of  10,000  francs, 
and  other  temptations,  were  offered  to  the 
French  dramatic  author  who  should  most 
powerfully  recall,  in  a  work  of  four  or  five  acts, 
the  episode  of  the  proclamation  of  the  inde- 
pendence of  the  United  States,  the  hundredth 
anniversary  of  which  fell  on  July  4th,  1876. 

"  The  two  examining  juries  were  thus  com- 
posed. The  first,  of  the  principal  critics  of 
the  French  theatrical  press.  The  second,  of 
M.  Victor  Hugo,  honorary  president,  Messrs. 
Emile  Augier,  Octave  Feuillet,  and  Ernest 
Legouve,  members  of  the  French  Academy, 
Mr.  Grenville  Murray,  representing  the  "  New 
York  Herald,"  and  M.  Perrin,  administrator- 
general  of  the  Theatre  Frangais. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  121 


"  The  preliminary  jury  were  to  select  five 
manuscripts ;  the  final  jury,  to  class  these 
manuscripts  in  what  may  be  called  their  in- 
tellectual order. 

"  Six  months  were  allowed  for  writing  the 
works,  and  about  a  hundred  plays,  signed 
with  mottoes  only,  were  forwarded  to  the  in- 
ternational agency  of  M.  Theodore  Michaelis, 
the  inaugurator  of  the  competition. 

"  More  than  a  year  elapsed  while  the  gentle- 
men of  the  theatrical  press  were  examining 
the  dramas. 

"  The  titles  of  the  selected  works  were  pub- 
lished, and  among  them  appeared  that  of 
the  '  Nouveau  Monde.' 

"  Two  more  months  passed  by.  At  last, 
on  the  22nd  of  January,  1876,  an  official 
notice  signed  by  the  superior  jury  informed 
me  that  the  '  Nouveau  Monde,'  had  of  all 
the  competing  works,  passed  with  most 
honour  through  the  double  ordeal." 

The  attractions  of  the  programme  had 
been  well  arranged  to  tempt  any  dramatic 
author.  Yet  it  was  not  the  medal  of  honour, 
nor  even  the  dream  of  the  ten  thousand 


122         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

francs,  which  induced  the  creator  of  Bonhomet 
to  compete.  It  was  the  proposed  subject ; 
above  all,  the  conditions  imposed  for  its  treat- 
ment. From  the  theatrical  point  of  view, 
Villiers  had  always  dreamt  of  being  an  inno- 
vator in  historical  drama.  His  idea  was  that 
the  characteristics  of  the  nation,  or  the  event 
which  was  to  be  portrayed,  should  be  im- 
ported into  the  framework  of  some  personal 
intrigue,  in  which  each  individual  of  the 
dramatis  persona  should  personify  in  his  lan- 
guage, attitude,  or  actions,  some  one  of  the 
numerous  elements  produced  by  the  friction 
of  the  incidents  of  the  story.  And  in  the 
very  terms  of  the  programme  by  which  the 
competitors  were  bound,  he  found  the  oppor- 
tunity for  realizing  this  conception.  For  the 
rules  of  the  competition  dictated,  amongst 
other  obligations,  that  the  work  must  be 
written  with  special  reference  to  July  4th, 
1 776  ;  at  the  same  time  requiring  a  drame 
intimey  in  which  the  event  of  the  4th  July 
was  only  to  be  superadded  to  the  story. 

In  the  author's  mind,  then,  "  Le  Nouveau 
Monde "  is,  before  all  else,  a  symbolic  drama, 


VILLIERS  DE  L;ISLE  ADAM.  123 

and  each  of  its  personages  admirably  repre- 
sents the  idea,  the  principle,  the  nation,  of 
which  he  or  she  is  the  mouthpiece.  Thus,  in 
Lord  Raleigh  Cecil  the  author  has  incarnated 
the  principle  of  royalism,  as  in  Stephen 
Ashwell  he  has  typified  the  principle  of 
liberty.  "  In  my  play,"  writes  Villiers  in  his 
preface,  "  Lord  Cecil,  under  a  veil  of  almost 
totally  imaginary  circumstances,  replaces  and 
sums  up  Lord  Percy,  General  Howe,  and 
many  others.  He  is,  as  it  were,  the  golden 
sovereign,  stamped  with  the  effigy  of  the 
King  of  England." 

It  is  hardly  my  place,  in  these  personal 
recollections,  to  endeavour  to  heighten  the 
merits  of  this  work  of  Villiers.  But  I  may 
be  permitted  to  lay  stress  on  some  details  of 
an  original  production,  so  little  known  to  the 
literary  public,  and  yet  so  worthy  of  its  atten- 
tion. To  those  of  us  who  are  not  yet  emas- 
culated by  the  terrible  invasion  of  common- 
place ideas,  "  Le  Nouveau  Monde"  remains 
one  of  the  best  constructed,  deepest,  and  most 
passionate  dramas  of  the  present  day.  It 
has  had  the  great  honour  of  being  sneered  at 


i24         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

by  M.  Francisque  Sarcey,  who  has  besprinkled 
the  character  of  Mistress  Andrews  with  the 
salt  of  his  Attic  wit.  To  some  superficial 
minds  this  character  may  seem  impressed 
with  romantic  exaggeration.  Yet  it  has  been 
learnedly  imagined  and  laboriously  premedi- 
tated by  a  writer  who  was  neither  a  novice 
nor  a  simpleton  in  literature.  Villiers  fore- 
saw that  it  would  be  exposed  to  the  cheap 
jests  of  those  self-important  gentry,  the 
critics  of  the  weekly  papers.  In  his  "  Address 
to  the  Reader"  he  has  taken  pains  to  explain 
his  conception,  and  this  page  of  his,  full  of 
an  intense  personality,  so  wonderfully  and 
rhythmically  written,  cannot  fail  to  charm 
my  readers.  It  seems  to  me  it  must 
make  every  true  artist  desire  to  read  that 
"  Nouveau  Monde"  so  lately  cut  up  by  the 
feuilletonists.     Here  it  is  : 

"  Mistress  Andrews  is  the  sombre  reflection 
of  that  feudalism  of  which  Lord  Cecil  repre- 
sents the  brighter  side,  and  I  find  myself 
obliged  to  say  a  few  words  in  explanation  of 
the  almost  fantastic  character  with  which  she 
is   endued.     This  woman's   personality  is 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  125 

formed  by  the  cohesion  of  intellectual  and 
sensitive  elements  of  far  too  high  an  order  to 
be  strictly  human.  Some  peculiarities  of  the 
character  seem  to  be  ultra-feminine.  There- 
fore, in  order  to  legitimatize  them  in  her 
case,  I  have  had  to  surround  her  with  a 
legendary  halo,  to  make  her  a  sort  of 
American  Melusina.  It  has  appeared  to  me 
to  be  logically  indispensable  to  the  vitality, 
even  the  possibility,  of  the  character,  to 
endow  her  with  a  mysterious  mark,  actually 
imprinted  in  her  flesh,  a  gory  impress  which 
shall  appear  only  at  the  hour  of  death, — 
a  sign,  in  fact,  the  heritage  of  the  curse  of 
centuries,  with  the  extraordinary  horror  of 
which  popular  tradition  surrounds  her  name. 
I  have  desired  thus  to  create  the  type  of  a 
strange,  stormy,  embittered  soul — the  daughter 
of  a  race  haunted  by  melancholy,  by  silence, 
and  by  fate.  A  thousand  shattered  splen- 
dours appear  athwart  this  gloomy  character, 
even  as  mirrors  and  goblets  would  shiver, 
and  daggers  flash,  against  the  arras  of  an 
ancient  palace  wherein  some  ducal  orgy  had 
been  held.  This  having  been  said,  some  excla- 


126         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

mations  in  the  part,  antiquated  ones,  perhaps, 
explain  and  make  themselves  acceptable, 
pronounced  as  they  are  by  a  being  of  so 
peculiar  a  nature." 

But  what  was  that  "  mysterious  mark 
actually  impressed  upon  this  woman's  flesh," 
this  gory  print  which  was  only  to  appear 
at  the  death  hour  ?  What  "  the  legendary 
halo"  which  surrounds  the  terrible  Mistress 
Andrews  ?  An  old  woman,  Mistress  Noella, 
describes  it  by  the  light  of  a  camp-fire,  in 
the  midst  of  the  virgin  forest  of  the  New 
World.  The  splendidly-related  legend,  which 
was  almost  entirely  suppressed  in  the  shape- 
less performance  of  this  fine  play  at  the 
Theatre  des  Nations,  must  be  inserted  here, 
for  several  good  reasons  :  first,  for  the  sake 
of  the  curious,  for  it  is  as  good  as  unpub- 
lished ;  further,  it  is  an  admirable  prose- 
poem,  whose  place  is  marked  in  the  antho- 
logies of  the  future;  and  finally,  it  is  a 
wonderful  example  of  the  peculiar  genius  of 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam. 

The  few  friends  who  have  heard  him  recite 
it,  pale,  trembling,  and  haggard,  under  the 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  127 

light  of  the  midnight  lamp — terrifying,  and 
terrified  himself  by  his  own  story — will  recall 
as  they  read  these  lines  the  tragic  and 
infectious  dread  which  he  threw  into  his 
declamation. 

"  One  evening  the  knight  Ralph  Evandale, 
returning  to  his  castle  from  the  Wars  of  the 
Roses,  heard  on  the  mountain  the  sound  of 
singing  in  his  ancestral  halls.    In  coat  of 
mail  and  with  lowered  vizor  he  climbed  the 
stone   staircase,  marvelling   at  the  festive 
sounds.    A  thousand  lamps  shone  on  the 
guests.    His  father,  Fungh  Evandale,  was 
celebrating   his  second  marriage,  and  the 
neighbouring    barons,   sitting    round  him, 
pledged  each  other  in  friendly  healths.  From 
the  threshold  Ralph  beheld  the  newly-wedded 
wife,  white  as  her  coronet  of  pearls ;  and  in 
the  bride  he  recognized  the  pale  girl  whom 
he  had  long  loved  in  his  secret  soul.    A  hell- 
born  feeling  rose  in  his  heart.    Silently  he 
closed  the  door,  and  disappeared.  Mean- 
while the  songs  had  ceased.  Leaning  thought- 
fully on  her  elbow,  on  the  nuptial  couch,  the 
young  chatelaine  watched  her  lord.   The  noble 


128         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

thane  unbuckled  his  sword  before  the  great 
hanging  mirror,  when  suddenly  the  tapestry 
was  pushed  back  by  a  gauntletted  hand.  It 
was  Ralph  this  time,  with  vizor  raised. 
Fungh  turned,  and,  recognizing  him,  joyfully 
stretched  out  his  arms.  But  the  cruel  son, 
impelled  by  some  foul  demon,  started  for- 
ward, fell  traitorously  on  his  father,  and 
plunged  his  dagger  in  his  throat,  up  to  the 
cross-hilt.  Fungh,  stricken  to  death,  in- 
stinctively put  his  hand  on  the  wound ;  then, 
with  a  maledictory  gesture,  he  laid  his  gory 
fingers  on  the  face  of  the  unnatural  son  who 
gazed  unmoved  upon  his  agony.  Ralph  drew 
himself  up,  his  heart  sullied  by  his  crime, 
and  his  face  branded  with  his  father  s  blood. 
Then,  bruising  in  his  mailed  hands  the  two 
wrists  of  the  widowed  bride,  he  dragged 
her,  half-naked,  dishevelled,  her  knees  shaking 
with  terror,  into  the  adjacent  oratory,  and 
would  have  constrained  the  chaplain  of  the 
old  manor  to  bless,  in  that  very  hour,  their 
sacrilegious  union.  Terrified  though  he 
was,  the  priest  gathered  courage  before  the 
altar,  and  would  only  utter  a  well-deserved 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  129 

anathema.  Thus  was  the  guilty  marriage 
solemnized.  And  the  shadow  fell  upon  their 
race !  They  gave  life  to  a  posterity  of 
demons,  an  accursed  line  of  wicked  men, 
who  have  rendered  themselves  illustrious  on 
the  earth  by  their  crimes  and  their  gloomy 
amours.  Now  the  race  is  extinct.  One  girl 
only  survives,  and  she  destroyed  her  property 
and  burnt  her  dwelling  before  she  fled  her 
country.  Where  is  she?  Nobody  can  tell! 
Nevertheless,  she  will  be  recognized  in  her 
last  hour,  for,  since  the  terrible  night  when 
their  young  ancestress  beheld  the  bloody 
hand  on  the  face  of  the  parricide,  that  accusing 
hand-print,  graven  on  the  flesh  of  the  Evan- 
dales,  has  perpetuated  itself  from  generation 
to  generation.  They  are  conceived  with  that 
impress  !  It  is  the  law  of  their  birth !  And 
whenever  death  strikes  one  of  them,  the 
sinister  hand  appears  upon  the  brow  of  the 
unhappy  being, — a  ghostly,  shining  hand, 
which  the  everlasting  night  alone  can  efface ! 
Pray  then  for  Edith  Evandale,  the  last  of 
her  race,  unknown,  forgotten  !  " 

This  Edith  Evandale,  it  will  have  been 

K 


130         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

understood,  is  she  who  now  conceals  herself 
under  the  name  of  Mistress  Andrews.  As 
the  old  woman  concludes  her  story,  and 
while  all  are  still  bending  forward  in  silent 
and  breathless  attention,  the  unhappy  woman 
herself  appears  standing  among  them,  the 
moonlight  falling  on  her  alone.  "  Yes,"  she 
says  in  a  low  despairing  voice,  "  pray  !  " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


Villiers'  rage  against  the  members  of  the  jury — Dramatic 
scene  at  the  house  of  Victor  Hugo — Villiers  leaves 
Paris — The  Bordeaux  theatres — Godefrin,  director 
of  the  Theatre  Francais — An  extraordinary  reading 
— Little  Mdlle.  Aimee — Madame  Aimee  Tessandier. 

Y  quotations  have  carried  me  away, 
and  we  are  far  from  Bordeaux! 
To  return.  When  Villiers  arrived, 
he  was  more  furious  than  ever 
with  Paris  and  the  Parisians  in  general,  and 
with  literary  committees  and  theatrical  mana- 
gers in  particular.  This  time  it  was  no 
longer  "  Perrinet  Leclerc,"  nor  the  loss  of  his 
lawsuit,  which  excited  his  rage,  but  the  suc- 
cession of  injustices  of  which  the  "  Nouveau 
Monde  "  and  its  author  had  been  the  victims. 
He  had,  indeed,  received  the  official  notice, 
signed  by  the  superior  jury,  and  announcing 


132         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

that  his  drama  had  taken  the  highest  and 
most  honourable  place  in  passing  through  the 
twofold  ordeal.  It  had  received  the  praises 
of  Victor  Hugo,  of  Emile  Augier  and  Octave 
Feuillet,  of  Ernest  Legouve  even !  and  that 
was  all.  No  medal  of  honour,  much  less  the 
ten  thousand  francs!  He  was,  it  is  true,  too 
well  acquainted  with  the  side-scenes  of  life  at 
this  end  of  the  century  to  feel  much  surprised 
at  seeing  the  gold  turn  into  dead  leaves,  but 
he  had  hoped  that  those  who  had  instituted  the 
competition  would,  at  all  events,  have  made 
some  effort  to  have  the  play  of  their  choice 
performed  on  some  great  Parisian  stage. 
Nothing  of  the  kind.  A  flood  of  benignant 
commonplace  was  the  only  answer  to  his  in- 
quiries and  his  imperious  demands,  and  the 
gifted  author  of  the  "  Nouveau  Monde"  had  to 
undergo  the  humiliation  (surely,  in  another 
life,  it  shall  be  reckoned  in  his  favour  !)  of  see- 
ing the  second-rate  play  of  one  of  his  fellow- 
competitors,  M.  Armand  d'Artois,  performed 
on  the  Paris  boards,  while  his  own  slumbered 
in  the  manuscript  boxes  of  the  manager  of 
the  Porte  St.  Martin  Theatre. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  133 

It  would  have  been  too  much  even  for  a 
being  gifted  with  more  patience  than  my  poor 
Villiers  possessed. 

As  a  first  step  the  poet  went  and  made  a 
scandal  at  the  Olympian  abode  of  Vi6lor 
Hugo,  in  the  Avenue  de  Clichy.  In  the 
presence  of  the  usual  body-guard,  Vacquerie, 
Lockroy,  Catulle  Mendes,  and  my  late  vene- 
rable compatriot,  L  ,  he  dared  to  accuse 

the  honorary  president  of  the  superior  jury  of 
having  been  the  first  to  break  all  the  promises 
signed  with  his  august  name.  He  mentioned 
the  demigod's  age  to  him,  and  made  some  allu- 
sion to  literary  integrity  in  general.    L  , 

who  usually  sat  silent  in  these  gatherings, 
never  opening  his  mouth  except  to  cry 
"  Sabaoth ! "  unable  to  contain  his  fury, 
angrily  advanced  towards  the  intruder,  and 
indignantly  shaking  the  beautiful  white  curls 
which  framed  his  pallid  face,  he  shot  at  the 
blasphemer  this  eloquent  apostrophe,  which 
Homer  or  Henri  Monnier  might  have  been 
glad  to  take  a  note  of :  "  Integrity,  sir,  is  not 
a  question  of  age ! "  Slowly,  with  his  un- 
certain glance,  Villiers  scanned  the  worthy 


i34         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

elder  from  head  to  foot,  then  gently  answered, 
"  No,  sir,  nor  folly  either  !  "  Then,  leaving 
the  startled  coterie,  horrified  at  his  unlimited 
audacity,  he  hurried  to  the  Porte  St.  Martin, 
snatched  his  manuscript  from  the  secretary's 
claws,  and  at  dawn  next  day,  laden  with  the 
five  thick  copybooks  containing  his  five  acts, 
and  without  vulgar  care  for  such  a  trivial 
thing  as  luggage,  he  took  the  through  train  to 
Bordeaux. 

"  Then  at  once,"  he  said,  as  he  brought  the 
story  of  the  adventures  of  his  play  to  a  close, 
"  I  bethought  me  of  you,  of  the  provinces,  of 
vengeance.  I  dreamt  of  murder,  of  decentra- 
lization !  Don't  you  see  what  a  splendid 
chance  there  is  here  for  the  manager  of 
some  provincial  theatre,  to  be  first  to  accept 
and  mount  and  play  a  piece  by  the  Comte 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  which  has  been 
crowned  by  the  approbation  of  a  committee 
counting  among  its  members  those  idols  of 
middle-class  lovers  of  literature,  Legouve, 
Feuillet,  Augier,  and  Hugo  ?  But,  in  the  first 
place,  is  there  a  theatre  in  Bordeaux  ? " 
"  There  are  three,"  I  replied,  "  without  count- 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  135 

ing  the  strollers'  booths."  Bordeaux  did,  in 
fact,  possess  in  those  days  three  important 
theatres :  the  Grand  Theatre,  which  was  de- 
voted to  operatic  performances,  the  Theatre 
Louit,  which  had  no  particular  line,  and  the 
Theatre  Francais,  which  was  entirely  given 
up  to  comedy  and  drama.  The  then  manager 
of  the  latter  was  a  Parisian  artiste,  a  good 
actor,  and  an  excellent  administrator,  pos- 
sessed of  great  boldness,  much  insight,  and 
most  reliable  good  taste.  He  has  since  made 
himself  a  name  at  the  Cafe  de  Suede,  and  in 
the  theatrical  world,  as  a  most  successful 
organizer  of  provincial  and  dramatic  tours. 
He  was  then,  and  presumably  is  still,  called 
Godefrin.  We  had  had  some  casual  relations 
with  each  other,  and  as  soon  as  Villiers  im- 
parted his  new  project  to  me,  I  bethought  me 
of  the  director  of  the  Theatre  Frangais  of  Bor- 
deaux. I  wrote  to  him,  therefore,  making 
known  our  idea  and  asking  for  an  early  inter- 
view. We  had  not  long  to  wait.  The  answer 
came,  overflowing  with  enthusiasm  for  Villiers 
and  full  of  gratitude  to  myself,  and  the  very 
next  evening  found  us  sitting  in  the  managerial 


136         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

apartment.  Villiers  had  been  to  the  barber  ; 
his  well-curled  moustache  had  a  conquering 
air,  and  he  marched  victoriously  through  the 
streets  of  Bordeaux  with  his  manuscript  under 
his  arm.  But,  as  the  sequel  will  show,  this 
pretence  of  assurance  concealed  a  horrible 
state  of  nervousness ;  he  was,  in  reality,  as 
agitated  as  a  debutante  who  hears  the  call- 
boy's  bell  for  the  first  time.  And  yet  there 
was  nothing  inaccessible  in  the  demeanour  of 
the  impresario  !  He  was  still  young,  free 
from  any  professional  swagger,  and  very 
affable.  He  received  Villiers  with  admiring 
deference.  A  young  woman,  tall  and  slight 
and  pale,  dressed  in  dark  colours,  rose  to  her 
feet  on  our  entrance,  and  surveyed  Villiers 
with  curiously  brilliant  eyes.  "  Allow  me  to 
introduce  you  to  little  Mdlle.  Aimee,  my  best 
pensionnaire"  said  Godefrin ;  " she  is  con- 
sumed with  a  desire  to  play  a  tragic  part,  and 
I  believe  she  will  succeed  ;  ay,  and  brilliantly  ! 
Perhaps,  dear  sir,"  turning  to  Villiers,  "  you 
will  be  able  to  find  her  a  part  in  your  play  ?  " 

There  was  no  answer  from  Villiers.  All  out 
of  curl  already,  he  had  retired  into  a  corner, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  137 

whence  he  watched  us  with  his  suspicious,  de- 
jected, startled  gaze,  nervously  rolling  a  ciga- 
rette between  his  fingers. 

"Well,  let  us  begin  to  read  !  "  said  I  at  last, 
to  break  a  silence  which  was  becoming  em- 
barrassing. We  seated  ourselves ;  the  poet  at 
the  table,  we  at  random  on  the  seats  scattered 
about  the  room.    And  the  reading  began. 

I  have  witnessed  many  strange  scenes  in 
the  course  of  my  life,  but  never,  I  think,  was 
I  present  at  anything  so  fantastically,  irresis- 
tibly funny  as  that  sight  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  reading  the  sheets  of  his  drama  to 
Godefrin  the  manager.  At  the  beginning 
things  went  fairly  well.  Villiers  seated  him- 
self, coughed,  moistened  his  lips  in  the  glass 
of  water  before  him,  tossed  back,  with  his 
usual  gesture,  the  long  fair  lock  which,  in  spite 
of  its  recent  curling,  would  keep  falling  over 
his  eyes,  and  then,  with  a  searching  glance  all 
round,  he  opened  the  manuscript  and  began  : 

"  Act  the  first — tableau  the  first — Swinmore 
— the  great  saloon  of  Swinmore  manor-house, 
near  Auckland,  in  the  county  of  Cumberland. 
At  the  rear  " 


138         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Here  he  interrupted  himself,  rose  from  his 
chair,  and,  with  the  objecl:  of  explaining  the 
fittings  of  the  scene  to  Godefrin,  began  to 
jump  about  the  room,  knocking  over  seats, 
dragging  armchairs  about,  unhooking  the 
arms  on  a  small  trophy  which  hung  upon 
the  wall,  and  accompanying  his  erratic  be- 
haviour with  inconsequent  sentences  and 
incomprehensible  words : 

"  The  balcony  of  wrought  iron-work — 
night — a  moon — stars — there,  in  the  distance, 
thy  silver  streak,  O  sea ! — gold  enrichments 
— Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  they  come,  the  voices !  the 
distant  and  prophetic  voices  ! — the  departing 
voices ! — Ahoy !  ahoy !  from  the  boat — here 
is  Ruth,  the  sad  lady  of  the  castle — here  is 
the  smiling  Mary  ! — the  voices  again — the 
voices  approach  ! — the  voices  die  away !  !  ! — " 

Suddenly  he  perceived  the  piano,  threw 
himself  upon  the  keyboard,  and  striking  some 
melancholy  chords,  he  sang  in  a  plaintive 
voice,  u  A  dieti,  prairie  !  Adieu,  berceau!  Adieu, 
tombeau!  Adieu,  patrie ! "'  then,  still  accom- 
panying himself,  recited  in  sepulchral  accents, 
"  Farewell,  old  house  !  in  which  I  have  never 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  139 

given  happiness,  nor  enjoyed  it !  the  duty  for 
which  I  forsake  thee  is  the  most  sacred  of  all 
duties  in  my  eyes  !  God  shall  be  my  judge — 
yes  ! — Adieu,  tombeatt !  " 

Startled  and  terror-stricken,  the  correct 
frock-coated  manager,  pale  and  with  com- 
pressed lips,  had  taken  refuge  in  a  corner, 
whence  his  wild  southern  eyes  every  now  and 
then  shot  imploring  glances  at  me.  The 
actress  had  buried  her  head  in  her  hands, 
and  I  could  see  her  pretty  shoulders  shaking 
in  a  tempest  of  convulsive  laughter.  Mean- 
while, Villiers,  with  bristling  locks  and  dis- 
trustful eyes,  had  left  the  piano,  and,  standing 
with  folded  arms  before  Godefrin,  he  de- 
manded, "Well,  sir,  have  you  understood 
this  mysterious  symbolism  ?  Everything, 
everything  is  in  that :  the  parting  from  the 
old  country,  the  uprooting  of  the  young  tree 
which  is  to  bear  the  foliage,  the  fruit,  the 
perfume  of  the  corrupt  Old  World  in  a 
newer  and  purer  one.  That,  the  exposition 
of  the  idea  of  my  play,  is  clearly  established, 
is  it  not  ?  "  In  spite  of  his  astonishment,  poor 
Godefrin  found  breath  to  answer,  "  Doubtless, 


140         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

dear  sir,  your  idea  is  wonderful,  but  I  must 
humbly  admit  it  has  not  evolved  itself  to  my 
intelligence  from  what  I  have  heard.  May  I 
beg  of  you  to  read  me  your  piece  quietly, 
without  thinking  about  the  scenery,  action,  or 
symbolism  ?  " 

Villiers  shrugged  his  shoulders,  his  whole 
physiognomy  expressing  ineffable  scorn  and 
disdain.  He  turned  to  me  :  "  Are  you  com- 
ing ?  "  he  said ;  then  taking  up  his  hat  and 
cane,  and  his  manuscript — "  Madam  !  sir !  I 
wish  you  good  morning ! "  and  he  moved 
towards  the  door. 

We  surrounded  him.  I  dragged  him  back, 
and  made  him  sit  down  and  listen  to  me. 
"Are  you  stark  mad  ?  "  I  cried,  sternly;  "  and 
do  you  suppose  the  manager  of  a  theatre  is  a 
prophet,  who  can  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  a 
poet's  brain,  and  discover  what  his  ideas  are 
before  he  condescends  to  put  them  into  good, 
plain,  intelligible  prose  ?  Deuce  take  it !  It 
is  not  by  pushing  about  chairs,  upsetting 
furniture,  and  bawling  to  the  piano,  that  you 
will  manage  to  make  Godefrin  understand 
your  play.    Take  my  advice ;  give  me  your 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  141 

manuscript "  (and  I  took  it  out  of  his  hand) ; 
"■go  and  sit  down  in  that  farthest  corner,  and 
let  me  give  a  complete,  ordinary,  common- 
place reading  of  your  piece." 

As  I  spoke  his  face  darkened ;  he  retired 
into  a  recess,  and  rolling  his  eternal  cigarette, 
his  eyes  on  the  ground,  he  answered  in  that 
hollow  voice  which  he  always  used  when  he 
desired  to  personify  Doctor  Triboulat  Bon- 
homet,  "  Very  good !  a  family  reading !  So 
be  it ! "  "  Bravo  !  "  cried  Godefrin,  "  now  we 
shall  be  able  to  understand  what  we  are  about, 
and  admire  in  proportion."  But  I  must  draw 
my  story  to  a  close.  For  two  hours  I  read 
without  stopping,  except  to  rest  for  a  few 
minutes  between  the  acts.  If  I  raised  my 
eyes,  I  saw  Godefrin  listening  with  an  air  of 
authority,  and  Villiers  lost  in  distant  dreams, 
while  little  Mdlle.  Aimee's  keen,  ardent,  con- 
centrated gaze  was  rivetted  on  myself.  I  felt 
and  understood  that  she  drank  in  every  word 
I  pronounced,  and  that  every  character,  as  it 
shaped  itself  before  her  mental  vision,  became 
instinct  with  life,  movement,  and  suffering ; 
and  when  I  reached  the  foot  of  the  last  page, 


142         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM, 

it  was  her  that  my  eyes  instinctively  sought. 
She  had  risen,  quivering  with  excitement,  and 
hastening  to  Villiers,  she  seized  both  his  hands, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh,  sir,  dear  sir,  I  beg  you  to 
let  me  play  the  part  of  Mistress  Andrews  !  " 
"  It  is  an  admirable  play,"  said  the  impresario, 
on  his  side,  "  and  I  am  ready  to  make  any 
sacrifice  in  order  to  mount  such  a  fine  piece 
of  work  in  a  way  worthy  of  its  own  and  its 
authors  merits." 

Alas,  poor  Godefrin !  He  little  knew  the 
poetic  temperament,  more  capricious  than 
April  sunshine,  more  changeable  than  the 
sea.  The  "  Nouveau  Monde"  was  never  to  be 
played  at  Bordeaux.  A  few  months  after  the 
scene  I  have  just  described,  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  was  back  in  Paris,  and,  seduced  by  the 
fair  promises  of  Chabrillat,  at  that  time  re- 
organizing the  Ambigu,  he  withdrew  his  piece 
from  the  director  of  the  Bordeaux  theatre, 
to  confide  it  to  this  suddenly-arisen  literary 
Barnum.  It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted  that 
Bordeaux  should  not  have  had  the  first  per- 
formance of  this  fine  play.  I  am  convinced 
that  Villiers'  work  would  there  have  achieved 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  143 

the  enthusiastic  success  which  it  merits,  and 
everyone  will  agree  with  me  that  no  Parisian 
stage  could  have  furnished  an  artist  more 
capable  of  interpreting  the  gloomy  role  of  the 
heroine  than  little  Mdlle.  Aimee,  M.  Godefrin's 
pensionnaire ;  for  Madame  Aimee  Tessandier, 
of  the  Comedie  Francaise,  is  now,  and 
justly,  considered  one  of  our  finest  and  most 
gifted  tragic  actresses,  and  Godefrin  was  a 
true  prophet  when  he  predicted  that  her 
success  would  be  great. 

Little  Mdlle.  Aimee  of  those  bygone  days  ! 
If  chance  should  bring  these  lines  before  your 
eyes,  you  may  perhaps  forget  for  a  moment 
your  recent  glories  in  the  house  of  Moliere, 
and  give  a  thought  to  the  distant  past !  That 
part  of  Mistress  Andrews,  madame,  was  a  very 
beautiful  creation,  and  one  which  might  well 
inspire  such  an  artistic  individuality  as  yours. 
It  might  have  marked  an  important  stage  in 
your  triumphal  march  ;  it  might,  even  now, 
did  you  choose  to  take  it  back  and  play  it  to 
the  life,  become  the  fairest  pearl  in  your 
diadem  as  a  tragic  aftress  ! 


CHAPTER  IX. 


Restful  days — The  real  Villiers — Villiers  and  the  fair 
sex — Talks  about  bygone  days — Charles  Baude- 
laire— His  true  nature — His  strange  home-life — 
Jeanne  Duval — Edgar  Poe — Richard  Wagner — 
"Axel" — The  Cabala  and  the  occult  sciences — 
Villiers'  religious  sentiments — Quotations — "  L'Eve 
Future." 

HOSE  days  spent  with  my  friend 
far  from  the  cares  and  noise  of  city 
life,  have  remained  with  me  as  one 
of  my  pleasantest  memories.  For 
us  they  were  days  of  delicious  and  beneficial 
repose.  In  that  quiet  sunny  southern  spot 
where  we  spent  some  weeks  together,  the 
mantle  of  bitter  scorn  and  scepticism  in  which 
he  wrapped  himself  on  the  boulevards  seemed 
to  drop  from  his  shoulders.  I  penetrated  far 
into  his  inner  nature,  and  he  allowed  me  to 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  145 

perceive  the  ideal  and  beautiful  personality 
which  he  so  jealously  concealed  in  the  depths 
of  his  soul.  Thus  I  came  to  know  at  last  a 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  but  little  resembling 
the  one  who  used  to  delight  the  nightly 
frequenters  of  the  brasseries  at  Montmartre 
by  his  wit,  his  strange  imaginings,  and  his 
disconnected  manner  of  life.  This  was  the  real 
man,  the  dreamer,  the  philosopher,  the  poet, 
the  true  lover,  incarnated  in  the  superhuman 
character  of  Axel,  and  concealed  beneath  the 
cloak  of  irony  in  which  all  his  work  is  en- 
folded. 

On  those  cloudless  balmy  nights  at  Bor- 
deaux, as  we  wandered  in  close  converse  along 
the  banks  of  the  great  river,  under  the  graceful 
arches  of  the  pine-trees,  through  which  the 
pale  and  mysterious  moonbeams  slanted, 
while  above  us  rose  the  hill-slopes  covered 
with  the  heavy  purple  and  golden  bunches  of 
the  ripening  grapes,  he  would  go  back  over 
his  past  life,  and  would  recount  to  me  and  to 
himself  his  intellectual  and  sentimental  his- 
tory. Did  woman  play  a  great  part  in  the 
poet's  life  ?    I  think  so,  though  he  had  few 


146         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

adventures  and  fewer  passionate  attachments. 
But,  like  that  much  misunderstood  personage, 
Don  Juan,  Villiers  was  continually  seeking 
that  divine  emotion  which  he  never  felt  but 
once,  and  that  in  his  early  youth,  during  the 
short  existence  of  that  first  and  purest  love  of 
which  the  green  Breton  fields  were  the  cradle, 
the  setting,  and  the  grave.  If  he  chanced  to 
catch  sight  of  one  of  those  celestial  faces 
which  make  one  believe  that  angels  may 
come  down  to  earth,  he  would  fall  in  love 
with  his  own  ideal.  But  as  soon  as  he  ap- 
proached a  woman  more  closely,  his  pitiless 
spirit  of  analysis  laid  bare  all  the  moral  ugli- 
nesses and  littlenesses  veiled  by  her  physical 
beauty.  The  angel  disappeared,  and  brutal 
reality  clipped  the  wings  of  his  dream.  After 
a  disappointment  of  this  sort,  he  would  throw 
himself  with  a  sort  of  frenzy  into  the  wildest 
orgies  of  midnight  debauchery.  At  such  times 
his  sarcasms  about  love  and  women  burnt  like 
a  redhot  iron,  but  beneath  all  his  imprecations 
one  felt  that  there  lay  the  despair  of  a  man 
who  has  held  for  one  short  moment  the  key  of 
Eden,  and  from  whom  it  has  been  snatched 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  147 

before  he  could  open  the  sacred  portal. 
Happily  his  art,  his  love  for  it,  and  his 
consciousness  of  his  own  genius,  consoled 
him  for  his  many  mortifications. 

He  loved,  in  these  intimate  and  often 
retrospective  conversations,  to  go  back  over 
the  first  happy  years  of  his  residence  in  Paris, 
to  his  friendly  relations  with  my  father,  and 
above  all  to  Charles  Baudelaire,  whose 
memory  haunted  him  like  a  ghost.  They 
had  made  acquaintance  at  the  office  of  the 
"  Revue  Fantaisiste,"  whither,  from  time  to 
time,  the  author  of  the  "  Fleurs  du  Mai" 
would  bring  some  of  his  original  and  ex- 
quisitely-polished "  Petits  Poemes  en  Prose." 
Baudelaire  and  Villiers  had  too  much  in 
common  not  to  be  quickly  drawn  together. 
From  the  date  of  their  first  meeting  they 
were  frequently  in  each  other's  company,  and 
Villiers  was  one  of  the  few  friends  who  were 
present  at  the  poet's  terrible  death.  For  my 
own  part,  while  greatly  admiring  Baudelaire 
as  a  poetical  craftsman,  I  did  not  like  his 
character  as  an  individual.  From  all  I  had 
heard  (for  I  never  knew  him  personally),  he 


148         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

seemed  to  me  to  be  wanting  in  sincerity,  and 
to  be  eternally  posing,  not  only  before  the 
public,  but  before  the  little  circle  over  which 
he  habitually  presided. 

Villiers  would  leap  with  rage  if  I  expressed 
this  in  his  presence.  He  declared  that  I 
swam  in  a  sea  of  stupid  prejudice ;  that  what 
I  took  for  affectation  in  Baudelaire  was  really 
the  essence  of  his  extraordinary  nature  ;  that 
he  could  not  be  nor  behave  otherwise.  And 
he  would  try  to  explain  this  strange,  terribly 
complicated  character  to  me,  diabolical  as  it 
was  in  some  ways,  exquisitely  good  in  others. 
Would  that  my  impotent  pen  could  reproduce 
the  fire,  the  eagerness,  and  the  brilliancy  of 
Villiers'  speeches  in  defence  of  his  departed 
friend !  Baudelaire  had  condescended  to  ex- 
plain and  analyze  himself,  to  lay  bare  his 
heart,  as  he  expressed  it,  before  this  privi- 
ledged  associate.  "  In  his  youth,"  said  Vil- 
liers, "  he  halted  between  two  ambitions.  To 
be  the  greatest  actor  in  the  world,  or  else  to 
be — the  Pope."  Although  he  had  shouldered 
a  musket  and  worn  the  workman's  blouse  in 
1848,  he  gave  himself  out  as  a  Catholic  and  a 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  149 

supporter  of  constituted  authority.  <l  A  Catho- 
lic possessed  by  a  devil,"  Villiers  would  add, 
"  and  a  supporter  of  authority  who  admitted 
none  but  his  own,  and  that  of  his  vices,  which 
he  cherished  as  works  of  art,  and  of  which  he 
was  inordinately  proud."   Nothing  could  have 
been  more  strikingly  curious  than  the  descrip- 
tion given  by  the  author  of  "Axel"  of  the 
poet's  home-life.    He  lived  near  Neuilly,  in 
an  apartment  with  large  high  rooms,  full  of 
oddly-shaped   furniture,    Chinese  monsters, 
Indian  idols,  fantastic  and  generally  frightful 
carvings  of  animals,  the  walls  of  which  were 
hung  with  dark  and  revolting  pictures  of  the 
Spanish  School,  mutilations,  executions,  and 
torture  scenes,  painted  by  the  horror-loving 
Ribeira  and  his  pupils.    In  the  midst  of  this 
nightmare  scene  Baudelaire  moved  slowly 
about,  cold,  silent,  and  pale,  himself  half- 
frightened,   like  one  who  walks  through  a 
hideous  dream.    And   as    mistress  of  this 
strange  dwelling,  there  was  a  creature  stranger 
still — a  coloured  girl,  almost  a  negress,  named 
Jeanne  Duval,  always  shivering,  and  wrapped 
in  .gaudy  silks,  past  fier  youth,  thin,  cringing, 


150         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

and  without  any  charm  but  that  of  her  glowing 
eyes.  Violent,  bad-tempered,  untruthful,  un- 
faithful, greedy,  intemperate,  and  depraved, 
she  died  a  drunkard's  death  in  the'  Maison 
Dubois,  idolized  and  petted  to  her  last  gasp 
by  Baudelaire,  who  loved  her  deeply,  I  sup- 
pose for  the  sake  of  her  many  perversities. 

It  was  to  Charles  Baudelaire  that  Villiers 
owed  one  of  his  greatest  artistic  enjoyments, 
his  acquaintance  with  the  works  of  Edgar  Poe. 
He  was  a  very  bad  English  scholar,  and 
without  his  friend's  wonderful  translations, 
and  his  enthusiastic  talk  on  the  subject  of  the 
great  American  story-teller,  he  would  never, 
probably,  have  made  acquaintance  with  the 
"Strange  Tales,"  nor  with  that  wonderful 
poem,  "  The  Raven,"  which  he  used  to  recite 
in  such  a  striking  manner.  And  it  was  the 
will  of  fate  that  he  should  owe  yet  more  to 
Baudelaire.  It  was  in  his  house  that  he  saw 
for  the  first  time  the  only  human  genius  before 
whom  he  ever  completely  and  unreservedly 
bowed  down,  Richard  Wagner.  This  meeting, 
the  most  important  event,  according  to  Villiers, 
in  his  intellectual  life,  took  place  in  the  month  of 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  151 

May,  1 86 1 .  The  wizard  of  music  had  called  to 
thank  Baudelaire  for  a  fine,  and,  for  those  days, 
very  courageous  study  of  himself  and  his  work, 
published  in  the  "  Revue  Europeenne,"  and 
entitled  "  Richard  Wagner  and  Tannhauser." 
This  was  the  beginning  of  one  of  those  beau- 
tiful and  noble  artistic  friendships  of  which, 
alas !  so  few  examples  exist,  and  the  bond  of 
which  was  only  to  be  severed  by  death.  In  a 
future  chapter  of  these  recollections,  I  shall 
speak  more  fully,  as  is  fitting,  of  the  intimacy 
between  these  two  highly-gifted  beings,  so  well 
formed  for  mutual  understanding,  the  creator 
of  Elsa  and  the  creator  of  Axel. 

Already,  at  the  time  of  his  sojourn  in  the 
south  of  France,  Villiers  was  at  work  on  that 
great  philosophical  drama  of  "  Axel,"  which 
only  appeared  after  he  was  dead. 

One  of  the  most  wonderful  scenes  in  the 
work  (Part  II.,  "  Le  Monde  Tragique,"  scene 
8),  was  entirely  written  at  Bordeaux. 

For  the  purposes  of  this  play  Villiers  had 
profoundly  studied  the  Cabala  and  the  occult 
sciences,  both  past  and  present.  Yet  his 
mind  was  too  powerful  and  too  analytical  to 


152  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

be  profoundly  smitten  by  such  theories.  He 
merely  saw  in  them  a  phase  of  the  philoso- 
phical evolution  of  centuries,  and  he  also  found 
in  them  dramatic  elements  of  the  highest 
order.  But  I  venture  to  assert,  from  what 
I  have  known  of  him,  that  it  would  be  a  mistake 
to  reckon  the  author  of  the  "Nouveau  Monde" 
among  contemporary  cabalists. 

His  ideal  soared  further  and  higher  far 
than  the  magic  art  cultivated  so  assiduously, 
and  not  altogether  unremuneratively,  by  that 
long-haired  young  sar,  Josephin  Peladan. 
Though  the  occult  sciences  may  overwhelm 
and  infatuate  the  intelligence  of  Peladan  at  the 
close  of  this  century,  and  Rohan  at  the  dawn 
of  the  Revolution,  to  such  vigorous  geniuses 
as  Goethe  in  Germany  and  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  in  France  they  are  but  a  step  to  be 
boldly  taken  in  the  approach  towards  divine 
truth. 

And  I  should  like  to  say  here,  to  the  honour 
of  the  great  writer  whose  work  and  character 
have  been  so  much  misunderstood,  that  Villiers 
de  Tlsle  Adam  was  all  his  life  a  convinced  and 
fervent  Roman  Catholic.    The  study  of  the 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  153 

philosophy  of  all  times  and  every  country,  the 
study  of  the  human  mind,  and  the  study  of 
nature,  all  only  strengthened  his  faith.  He 
firmly  believed  that  God  was  good,  and  that 
the  Devil  was  wicked,  in  Heaven,  in  Purgatory, 
in  Hell.  Through  all  those  hours  of  physical 
agony  and  moral  suffering  which  he  endured 
before  his  soul  escaped  to  Paradise,  he  found 
the  source  of  all  his  hope  and  all  his  consola- 
tion in  prayer.  His  life,  indeed,  like  the  lives 
of  most  great  artists,  was  full  of  faults  and 
failures,  but  whenever  he  had  a  chance  of 
fighting  the  good  fight  in  the  cause  of  reli- 
gion and  of  our  divine  ideal,  he  did  it  with  a 
fervour  and  an  enthusiasm  which  proved  the 
sincerity  of  his  convictions.  And  doubtless 
God  will  count  that  to  him  for  righteous- 
ness. 

4 4  One  of  the  most  deeply-rooted  feelings  in 
Villiers'  soul,"  wrote  M.  G.  Guiches,  very 
truly,  the  day  after  the  poet's  death  ("  Figaro," 
August  18,  1889),  "was  the  strong,  honest, 
tender,  religious  sentiment  which  would  make 
his  eyes  fill  with  tears  whenever  the  divine 
mysteries  were  spoken  of  in  his  presence. 


154         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Neither  the  promiscuous  cafe  life,  throughout 
which  he  always  preserved  his  haughty  inde- 
pendence of  heart  and  mind,  nor  his  copious 
and  inventive  flow  of  banter,  ever  touched 
with  the  faintest  stain  the  royal  ermine  of  his 
faith.  On  those  loose  sheets  on  which,  like 
Baudelaire,  he  was  in  the  habit  of  noting 
down  his  thoughts,  side  by  side  with  prosaic 
memoranda  of  daily  life,  and  naive  resolutions, 
such  as  'not  to  smoke  so  much,'  phrases  like 
the  following  occur  :  '  It  is  a  sin  to  mourn  for 
a  dead  child.  It  has  entered  into  its  glory/ 
Among  these  fragments,  too,  are  touching 
litanies  to  the  Virgin  :  '  Mother  of  the  good 
God !  O  thou,  my  Mother !  thou  who 
intercedest,  sure  that  thou  shalt  be  heard  ! 
Thou  who  standest  on  Calvary !  Thou  who 
canst  pardon!  Heel  that  crushest  the  ser- 
pent !  Whiteness  of  the  eternal  dawn  !  Glory 
of  human  tears !  Light  of  the  eastern  star ! 
Thou  soul  of  chastity !  Thou  resignation  of 
the  poor!'  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

"  To  an  author  who  told  him  the  atro- 
ciously cynical  title  of  his  lately-published 
book,    he  answered  boldly :    '  Such  things 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  155 

should  never  be  written.  Those  are  words 
that  will  come  back  to  you  on  your  death- 
bed.' " 

As  I  am  in  a  vein  of  quotation,  I  will  cite 
one  more  charming  anecdote  on  the  same 
subject,  related  in  the  "  Revue  Blanc"  by  M. 
Henri  Laujol,  one  of  Villiers' earliest  comrades. 

"  I  remember,"  he  says,  "  receiving  a  visit 
from  Villiers  one  day,  while  I  was  reading 
Hceckel's  '  History  of  the  Creation/  I  can  see 
him  now,  turning  over  the  leaves,  looking  at 
the  woodcuts,  and  weighing  the  book  in  his 
hand,  with  much  pantomimic  alarm.  He 
asked  how  much  that  grand  book  had  cost, 
and  I  told  him  the  price,  somewhere  about 
ten  francs.  1  The  catechism  costs  only  two 
sous  ! '  was  his  reply.  It  was  a  regular  coun- 
try parson's  remark.  But  Villiers  was  so 
delighted  at  having  made  it  that  he  spent  his 
whole  afternoon  repeating  it  to  me,  droning  it 
out  in  every  sort  of  key,  now  falsetto,  now  bass, 
and  then  again  in  a  Tyrolese  jodel ;  interrupt- 
ing himself,  now  and  then,  to  laugh  at  the  top 
of  his  voice.  I  could  get  nothing  else  out  of 
him  the  whole  of  that  day." 


156         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

But  I  must  turn  from  our  bygone  talks  to 
register  here  an  incident  of  his  life  on  the 
boulevards,  which  he  related  to  me  one  even- 
ing, and  which  was  to  give  birth  to  that 
famous  novel,  "  L'Eve  Future,"  which  ap- 
peared long  afterwards  at  Brunhoff's,  with 
this  motto  attached  to  it :  "  Transitoriis  queer e 
ceterna" 


CHAPTER  X. 

A  metamorphosis— An  ambitious  pastry-cook— Appearance 
of  the  newspaper,  "La  Croix  et  TEpee" — Its  political, 

artistic,  and  literary  programme— Lord  E  W  

— His  strange  suicide — The  wax  figure — A  nocturnal 
conversation — The  American  engineer  and  his 
master,  Edison — First  conception  of  "L'Eve  Future" 
— Villiers  de  ITsle  Adam  and  Thomas  Alva  Edison. 

OT  long  before  the  famous  Lockroy 
lawsuit,  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  life,  had  found 
himself  in  a  regularly  established 
position.  He  had  given  the  frequenters  of 
the  boulevards  and  of  the  newspaper  offices 
the  unwonted  speciacle  of  a  Villiers  in  brand- 
new  clothes  and  a  brilliantly  smart  silk  hat — 
a  Villiers  with  a  grave  face  and  a  well-filled 
pocket-book,  whose  fingers  rattled  keys  and 
five-franc  pieces  together  in  his  pockets — a 


158         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Villiers,  in  fine,  who  breakfasted  at  the  Cafe 
Riche,  and  had  his  table  every  night  at 
Brebant's  (that  restaurant  so  dear  to  literary 
men),  in  the  celebrated  first-floor  room  so 
graphically  described  in  the  journals  of  the 
De  Goncourt.  The  reason  of  this  ephemeral 
change  in  the  poet's  life  is  worthy  of  a  place 
in  the  "  Arabian  Nights."  A  retired  con- 
fectioner, devoured  by  political  and  literary 
ambition,  and  convinced,  doubtless,  that  his 
success  in  making  fancy  biscuits  gave  him  a 
right  to  put  his  fingers  into  the  great  political 
pie,  desired  to  found  a  newspaper  to  be  the 
organ  of  his  opinions.  This,  in  itself,  is  a  very 
ordinary  fact,  not  particularly  worthy  of  note. 
Many  an  ambitious  vulgarian  is  not  content 
without  a  newspaper  slavishly  devoted  to  his 
interests.  But  this  pastry-cook,  who  shall  be 
nameless,  became  absolutely  heroic,  and  un- 
doubtedly worthy  to  be  mentioned  to  pos- 
terity when,  out  of  all  the  starving  writers 
who  trod  the  cruel  and  horrible  Paris  pave- 
ments, he  chose  that  unmerciful  scoffer,  Villiers 
de  l'lsle  Adam,  as  his  representative  and  alter 
ego. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  159 

A  play  or  a  story  might  be  written  about 
the  ups  and  downs  of  the  astounding  news- 
paper which  was  the  outcome  of  this  strange 
union.  I  have  only  time  to  throw  some  hasty 
touches  on  the  canvas. 

Villiers  was  chief  editor,  reporter,  critic,  and 
article- writer  at  one  and  the  same  time.  The 
confectioner  was  director,  manager,  and  cashier. 
He  gave  the  poet  live  hundred  francs  a  month, 
and  left  him  absolutely  free  to  express  his  own 
political,  artistic,  and  literary  opinions,  exacting 
two  things  only :  firstly,  that  "  his  newspaper  " 
should  mention  him,  individually,  every  day ; 
and  secondly,  that  "  his  newspaper "  should 
make  a  stir  in  the  capital.  His  desire  was 
more  than  gratified ! 

"  La  Croix  et  TEpee,"  the  Cross  and  Sword 
(high-sounding  title !),  claimed,  in  matters  of 
religion,  the  right  of  every  soldier  to  swear 
round  oaths  and  go  to  mass ;  politically,  it 
supported  the  claim  of  the  Naundorffs  to  the 
throne  of  France  ;  artistically,  it  put  the  sym- 
bolist painters  above  Raphael ;  poetically,  it 
proclaimed  Stephane  Mallarme  the  prince  of 
rhyme,  and  defended  the  School  of  the  Incom- 


160         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

prehensibles ;  and  musically,  it  was  belligerently 
and  exclusively  Wagnerian.  At  the  end  of 
six  months  the  newspaper  disappeared,  the 
confectioner  went  back  to  his  province,  and 
Villiers  found  himself  back  on  the  boulevards, 
poorer  than  ever  in  pocket,  but  rich  still  in 
splendid  hopes,  and  answering  the  hypo- 
critical condolences  of  his  fellow-journalists 
with  his  usual  phrase,  "  Yes,  yes !  Many 
thanks  !  But  all  is  not  lost!  Next  winter,  we 
shall  see  ! " 

It  was  during  this  period  of  relative  pros- 
perity that  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  in- 
dividual who  gave  him  the  first  idea  for  his 
novel,  "  L'Eve  Future." 

One  evening  he  saw  coming  into  Brebant's, 
arm-in-arm  with  one  of  the  attaches  of  the 
British  Embassy,  a  young  Englishman  whose 
singular  face  aroused  his  imagination. 

"  He  was  both  handsome  and  sad-looking," 
Villiers  used  to  tell  me,  in  his  enthusiastic 
way,  "  and  I  saw  at  once  in  the  expression  of 
his  eyes  that  grave  and  scornful  look  of 
melancholy  which  always  betokens  a  hidden 
despair." 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  161 


This  young  man's  name  (I  only  give  the 

initials)  was  Lord  E  W  .    His  tragic 

end  attracted  attention  in  Paris  for  some  time. 
He  destroyed  himself,  very  deliberately,  some 
days  after  Villiers  met  him.  Stretched  beside 
him,  in  a  magnificent  dress,  bespattered  with 
his  blood,  was  found  an  admirably-made  lay 
figure,  representing  a  young  woman,  whose 
waxen  face,  modelled  by  a  great  artist,  was 
the  portrait  of  a  young  lady  well  known  in 
London  for  her  brilliant  beauty,  and  who  had 
been  engaged  to  be  married  to  the  eccentric 
young  nobleman. 

Was  this  suicide  merely  the  result  of  one 
of  those  strange  hereditary  manias  which 
affli6t  some  families  of  the  English  aristo- 
cracy ?  Or  was  the  mysterious  catastrophe 
of  some  dramatic  and  passionate  love  affair 
to  be  read  in  the  presence  of  the  wonderful 
doll  on  the  young  man's  deathbed  ?  The 
young  attache  inclined  to  this  latter  opinion. 

According  to  his  view,  Lord  E   W  

had  been  the  viclim  of  an  extraordinary 
fatality.  He  adored  the  physical  loveliness 
of  the  young  girl ;  he  was  perpetually  haunted 

M 


1 62         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

by  her  magnificent  beauty ;  but  he  held  her 
mind  and  soul,  and  everything  in  her  that 
was  not  material,  in  the  deepest  abhorrence. 
Hence  arose  the  slowly-developed  madness 
which  ended  in  his  death. 

These  things  were  related  one  night  at  the 
restaurant,  before  Villiers  and  a  small  circle 
of  habitues.  An  American  engineer — an  elec- 
trician, as  they  call  them  over  there — rose  from 
his  seat,  and  quietly  said,  "  I  am  sorry  your 
friend  did  not  apply  to  me  ;  I  might  have 
cured  him."  "You!  how?"  "How!  Great 
Scott !  I  would  have  given  his  doll  life,  soul, 
movement,  love  ! "  The  assembled  company, 
being  sceptical  as  to  miracles,  burst  out  laugh- 
ing, all  but  Villiers,  who  seemed  to  be  absorbed 
in  rolling  his  cigarette.  "You  may  laugh, 
stranger,"  said  the  American  gravely,  as  he 
picked  up  his  hat  and  stick,  "  but  the  time 
will  come  when  my  great  master,  Edison,  will 
teach  you  that  electricity  is  an  almighty 
power,"  and  with  that  he  went  out. 

These  facts  and  this  nocturnal  conversa- 
tion gave  birth  to  "  L'Eve  Future,"  one  of  the 
most  original  works  of  this  end  of  the  century. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  163 

Those  who  have  perused  this  masterpiece  of 
eloquent  raillery,  by  the  poet  who,  to  use  M. 
Henri  Laujol's  happy  expression,  "had  vowed 
a  monkish  hatred  against  modern  science,  that 
handmaid  of  utilitarianism,"  will  doubtless 
recollect:  that  the  general  notion  and  argu- 
ment of  the  story  follow  almost  identically 
the  facts  I  have  just  related.  But  Villiers 
was  not  one  of  those  half-artists  who  are 
satisfied  with  their  first  idea,  and  work  it  out 
the  moment  chance  has  presented  it  to  their 
brain.  It  was  only  after  revolving  it  in  his 
mind,  pondering  and  brooding  over  it,  that 
he  began  to  write  his  novel,  the  first  wonder- 
ful pages  of  which,  with  their  description  of 
Menloe  Park  and  its  terrifying  proprietor, 
Thomas  Alva  Edison,  he  read  to  me  in  1879. 

When  the  great  inventor  himself  came  to 
Paris  in  1889  to  see  our  exhibition,  somebody 
sent  him  De  l'lsle  Adam's  book.  He  read  it 
through  without  putting  it  down,  and  said  to 
one  of  his  intimates,  "  That  man  is  greater 
than  I.  I  can  only  invent.  He  creates!"  He 
desired  to  make  the  author's  acquaintance,  but, 
alas  !  poor  Villiers,  already  stricken  by  the  fell 


1 64         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

disease  of  which  he  died,  could  not  respond 
to  Edison's  invitation.  This  is  deeply  to  be 
regretted.  Can  anything  more  curious  and 
more  interesting  be  imagined  than  a  conver- 
sation between  the  progenitor  of  Dr.  Triboulat 
Bonhomet  and  the  father  of  the  phonograph? 

Soon  after  he  had  related  the  curious  origin 
of  his  contemplated  work  to  me,  my  eccentric 
friend  suddenly  disappeared  from  my  sight. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Villiers'  absent-mindedness — His  terrible  carelessness — 
His  departure  from  Bordeaux — Godefrin's  despair — 
A  year  later — Bohemian  poverty — A  justification — 
Want  of  money — Villiers'  difficulties — His  pride — 
His  artistic  conscientiousness — Drumont's  book — 
Villiers  and  the  young  Jew — A  good  answer — Villiers' 
manner  of  life — His  midnight  wanderings — His  dis- 
like of  daylight — Villiers  and  Anatole  France. 

MOST  disconcerting  thing  about 
Villiers,  which  used  to  exasperate 
his  best  friends  till  his  dying  day, 
was  his  perpetual  absent-minded- 
ness, which  led  him  to  forget  the  most  impor- 
tant appointments,  to  break  off,  for  long 
months  on  end,  his  most  intimate  daily 
relations,  and  only  occasionally  to  fulfil  the 
engagements  he  might  make  with  editors  of 
reviews  or  publishers.  The  uncertainty  of 
his  movements  kept  one  continually  on  the 


1 66         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

alert;  you  could  never  tell  when  he  would 
come  or  when  he  would  go.  I  have  described 
his  sudden  apparition  in  my  house  at  Bor- 
deaux. His  departure  was  just  as  unexpected. 
We  had  talked  the  whole  night  long ;  at  early 
dawn  I  went  to  get  a  little  rest,  and  when  I 
rose  it  was  already  late.  I  inquired  after 
Villiers  ;  he  had  gone  out,  and  hours  passed 
without  his  return.  In  vain  I  sought  him. 
Without  beat  of  drum  he  had  disappeared, 
melted  away  like  a  shadow. 

A  few  days  after  I  met  Godefrin  with  a 
long  face.  He  had  just  received  a  letter 
from  the  inconstant  writer,  dated  from  Paris, 
demanding  the  immediate  return  of  the  manu- 
script of  the  "  Nouveau  Monde."  His  con- 
versation was  one  flood  of  recriminations. 
For  my  own  part,  inured  long  since  as  I  was 
to  the  poet's  offhand  ways,  I  was  only  half- 
surprised,  and  I  did  my  best  to  console  the 
unhappy  director,  whom  I  have  not  had  the 
good  fortune  to  meet  since  that  interview. 

Towards  me  Villiers  preserved  an  un- 
broken silence.  Indeed,  I  might  have  thought 
him  dead,  and  myself  forgotten,  if  the  post  had 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  167 

not  brought  me  packets  containing  articles, 
tales,  or  fanciful  conceits  of  his,  cut  out  of 
newspapers  and  magazines,  and  which,  ad- 
dressed as  they  were  by  his  own  hand,  proved 
that  he  was  not  "the  late  De  l'lsle  Adam," 
and  that  I  still  lived  in  his  memory. 

It  was  difficult,  after  all  was  said  and  done, 
to  bear  him  a  grudge  because  of  his  exaspera- 
ting carelessness,  for  when  you  next  met  him, 
after  a  disappearance  of  five  or  six  months,  he 
would  address  you  as  if  he  had  only  left  you 
the  night  before.  If  you  reproached  him,  he 
would  gaze  at  you  with  an  innocent  and 
puzzled  air,  seemingly  quite  unconscious  of  his 
sin  ;  and  then  he  had  such  a  particular  way  of 
exclaiming,  "  What !  I  did  that!  oh, come,  come ! 
impossible !  you  must  be  chaffing  me ! "  that 
nobody  could  keep  their  countenance  nor  their 
bad  temper  long.  Personally  I  was  not  to  see 
him  for  two  years.  Alas  !  when  we  met  again 
in  Paris  in  1879,  I  saw  that  poverty  was  slowly 
accomplishing  its  destructive  work.  Never 
had  the  Bohemian  life  which  he  so  coura- 
geously accepted,  seemed  more  utterly  dreary. 
He  needed  all  his  power  of  hopefulness  to 


1 68         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

endure  it.  But  though  his  heart  was  as  stout, 
his  imagination  as  brilliant,  his  mind  as  active 
as  ever,  the  bodily  frame  was  beginning  to  tire 
and  its  machinery  to  break  down,  thanks  to 
bad  food,  want  of  care,  and  the  late  hours 
and  noxious  tobacco-laden  air  of  tavern  life. 
Living  as  I  did  in  Paris  the  whole  of  that  year, 
I  contrived  to  withdraw  him  a  little  from  the 
infernal  round  which  was  destroying  his  life. 
But  I  never  deceived  myself.  I  felt  it  was 
only  a  respite,  and  that  he  would  always  have 
a  longing  for  that  eccentric  and  feverish  exis- 
tence which  devoured  him  body  and  soul  and 
hastened  his  end. 

This  year  of  grace  1879  was  the  last  we 
spent  together,  and  it  was  the  time  of  our 
closest  intimacy.  Before  reviving  some  memo- 
ries of  it,  I  desire  to  defend  Villiers  against  an 
unjust  accusation,  which  is  frequently  brought 
against  him.  He  has  been  accused,  both  in  life 
and  after  death,  of  being  a  dissipated  tavern- 
bird,  a  lover  of  low  company.  It  has  been 
asserted  that  his  want  of  success  arose  princi- 
pally from  his  own  bad  conduct,  his  want  of 
moral  sense,  his  indolence,  and  the  doubtful 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  169 

company  he  frequented.  To  those  who  only 
knew  him  casually  these  accusations  bear  an 
appearance  of  truth  fatal  to  the  poet's  good 
name.  But  we  who  were  acquainted  with 
his  inner  life,  and  have  watched  him  through 
the  hard  trials  of  his  laborious  existence,  know 
how  little  he  deserved  the  reproaches  of  these 
wiseacres.  We  knew  the  nobility  of  his  nature, 
the  innate  delicacy  of  his  tastes,  his  passion 
for  work,  his  scorn  of  material  enjoyments. 
And  we  know  how,  little  by  little,  this  gifted 
being  was  driven  by  evil  fortune  to  live  in  an 
atmosphere  unworthy  of  him,  and  how,  too, 
little  by  little,  and  after  many  a  revolt,  he 
grew  accustomed  to  it. 

May  I  be  permitted,  then,  within  the  space 
of  a  few  lines,  to  attempt  the  justification  of 
the  slipshod  and  Bohemian  manner  of  life  of 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam.  It  will  give  me  an 
opportunity  of  showing  the  original  and  com- 
plex character  of  the  artist  in  a  new  light. 

The  faithful  autobiography  of  a  writer 
living  in  Paris  during  the  last  twenty  years, 
without  any  other  means  of  support  than  his 
own  talents,  would  be  a  gloomier  and  a  sadder 


iyo         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

book  than  Dante's  "  Inferno."  But  it  would 
likewise  be  a  healthy  and  instructive  one,  a 
sort  of  warning  beacon  which  should  save 
many  a  young  and  promising  life  from  ruin, 
shame,  and  death.  Though  there  are  some 
indomitable  natures  which  rise  higher  and 
gain  in  strength  through  the  struggle  with 
misfortune,  there  are  many  more,  and  highly 
gifted  ones  too,  which  are  lowered  and 
crushed  down  by  despicable  cares,  grinding 
poverty,  and  anxiety  concerning  the  earning 
of  daily  bread.  True  as  it  may  be  that 
energy,  moral  strength,  and  artistic  conviction 
form  a  solid  suit  of  armour,  yet  I  hold  that  the 
thinnest  silver  cuirass  is  more  useful  for  win- 
ning the  final  victory.  And  that  which  hin- 
dered Villiers  from  climbing  to  the  highest 
eminence  was  above  all  things  his  want  of 
money. 

This  condition  of  penury  must  have  been 
all  the  more  prejudicial  and  painful  to  him, 
because  the  debut  of  his  career  was  so  suc- 
cessful as  to  be  almost  an  apotheosis. 

Excessively  proud,  and  with  a  lively  sen- 
timent for  the  illustrious  name  he  bore,  he 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  171 

would  never,  when  poverty  came  upon  him, 
undertake  any  of  those  lucrative,  if  ignoble 
jobs,  which  in  these  days  are  always  to  be 
had  about  the  literary  world.  He  carried 
his  respect  for  his  calling  as  far  as  his  respect 
for  his  ancestry,  and  no  matter  how  pressing 
his  need  was,  he  would  never  send  a  hastily- 
finished  page,  nor  even  sentence,  to  the 
printer.  He  read  and  re-read  everything, 
first  low,  then  loud,  and  finally,  when  the 
whole  was  weeded  and  corrected,  he  would 
declaim  it  in  that  clear  sonorous  voice  which 
he  always  used  when  reciting  his  own 
writings.  According  to  him,  the  worst  crime 
a  writer  can  commit  is  to  sell  himself.  And 
in  this  connection  I  will  record  an  authen- 
ticated anecdote  which  ends  with  a  remark 
by  the  author  of  "  L'Eve  Future "  which 
almost  touches  the  sublime. 

Immediately  after  the  appearance  of  "  La 
France  Juive,"  the  Jewish  community  in 
Paris  looked  about  for  a  writer  equal  to  the 
task  of  returning  the  murderous  knockdown 
blows  of  the  terrible  Drumont.  Somebody 
suggested  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam.    A  noble 


172         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

name,  a  brilliant  talent,  and  in  straits  of 
poverty — probably  to  be  had  very  cheap  !  A 
nice  little  glossy  well-combed  Jew,  who  then 
looked,  perhaps  still  looks,  after  the  censor- 
ship in  the  back  office  of  a  fashionable  pub- 
lisher, was  sent  to  call  upon  him.  Villiers, 
struggling  with  the  direst  poverty,  often 
without  half  a  franc  in  his  pocket,  was  living 
in  a  big,  bare,  dark,  cold  room,  somewhere 
on  the  heights  of  Montmartre,  where  he 
still  possessed  an  old  easy-chair,  a  ricketty 
table,  and  a  poor  asthmatic  piano,  which  the 
bailiffs  had  despised.  Here  the  young  Jew 
found  the  last  descendant  of  the  Grand  Mas- 
ter of  the  Order  of  St.  John  of  Jerusalem. 
Unctuously  servile,  and  with  an  exaggerated 
show  of  respect,  the  messenger  of  the  syna- 
gogue explained  its  desire,  concluding  by 
saying  that  there  could  be  no  bargaining 
with  a  writer  of  such  distinction,  and  that  the 
Comte  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  had  only  to 
name  his  own  price.  Then  he  waited  in 
silence  for  the  answer  of  Villiers,  who  had 
listened  without  interrupting,  rolling  a  ciga- 
rette in  his  white  fingers,  his  absent  glance  half 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  173 

hidden  by  the  thick  lock  that  fell  over  his 
brow.  When  his  interlocutor  had  ceased 
speaking,  he  raised  his  head,  and  fixing  on 
him  his  clear  blue  eyes,  filled  now  with 
sudden  flame,  he  answered  in  a  ringing 
voice,  "  My  price,  sir  ?  It  has  not  altered 
since  the  days  of  our  Saviour !  Thirty  pieces 
of  silver ! "  Then,  rising  and  wrapping 
around  him  his  tattered  old  dressing-gown, 
he  pointed  to  the  door  with  a  gesture  that 
the  illustrious  marshal,  his  ancestor,  might 
have  envied,  and  added,  "  Begone,  sir!" 

But  I  have  wandered  from  my  subject . 
I  was  saying  that  poverty  had  been  a  hard 
stepmother  to  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  forcing 
him  from  his  youth  up  to  shape  his  life  to 
the  Bohemian  habits  of  a  vagabond  Parisian 
life,  and  to  such  habits  he  gradually  became 
accustomed.  Serious  and  well-established 
people,  as  well  as  self-important  and  overfed 
middle-class  folk,  used  to  reproach  him  bit- 
terly with  the  carelessness  of  his  existence, 
with  his  slipshod  behaviour,  above  all,  with 
his  assiduous  frequentation  of  those  noclurnal 
places  of  entertainment,  which,  under  the 


174         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

name  of  wine-shops,  brasseries,  and  artists' 
taverns,  swarm  between  the  Faubourg  Mont- 
martre  and  the  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  Yet 
how  many  good  excuses  there  were  for  this 
so-called  life  of  idleness  and  debauchery ! 

If  Villiers,  without  being  rich,  had  pos- 
sessed a  few  pounds  a  year,  if  he  could  have 
made  for  himself,  somewhere  in  the  formidable 
city,  ever  so  small  a  corner  where  he  might 
have  dreamed  his  brilliant  beautiful  dreams, 
and  written,  and  thought,  without  anxiety 
concerning  his  daily  pittance, — I,  who  was 
his  friend,  will  affirm  that  the  witty  and 
eloquent  frequenters  of  the  "  Chat  Noir " 
and  the  "  Rat  Mort "  would  have  known  him 
less,  and,  what  is  more  to  the  purpose,  less 
intimately.  But  driven  by  dire  necessity  to 
pitch  his  tent  in  some  empty  lodging  or 
dreary  hotel  room,  he  had  such  a  horror, 
aristocratic  being,  dainty  poet,  charming 
artist  as  he  was,  of  the  hideous  dwellings 
into  which  his  evil  fate  had  penned  him, 
that  he  fled  from  them,  preferring  to  make 
all  Paris  his  home,  and  to  say,  in  the  words 
of  Bruant's  working  man,  "  T'es  dans  la  rue, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  175 

va,  t'es  chez  toi !  " — "  You're  in  the  gutter  ? 
then  you  are  at  home  ! " 

It  was  walking  the  pavements,  on  the 
terraces  of  cafes,  and  with  his  elbow  on  the 
stained  tavern  tables,  that  he  imagined,  dis- 
cussed, and  partly  wrote,  some  of  his  finest 
works.  Every  imaginative  being,  moreover, 
wants  some  nervous  excitement  to  quicken 
his  brain  process,  and  Villiers  more  especially 
was  the  victim  of  this  need.  He  could  not 
evolve  his  ideas  and  present  them  clearly 
to  his  own  mind  without  discussion,  and 
therefore  without  somebody  to  discuss  them 
with.  If  prosperity  had  been  granted  to  him, 
he  might  have  found  all  this  in  artistic  circles, 
at  his  own  fireside,  in  friendly  gatherings, 
perhaps  in  the  drawing-room  of  some  woman 
of  fashion.  Poor  as  he  was,  and  driven  into 
Bohemian  life,  he  had  to  fall  back  on  his 
wild  nocturnal  habits,  and  on  the  hubbub 
of  the  tavern,  where  ideas  and  words  meet 
and  clash  noisily  through  clouds  of  tobacco 
smoke,  amidst  the  rattle  of  glasses  and  the 
noisy  laughter  of  loose  women. 

I  owe  it,  however,  to  truth  to  say  that 


:-:  VILLIERS   DE  LISLE  ADAM. 

Yilliers*  love  of  late  hours  was  not  alto  aether 
the  result  of  circumstances.  He  was  essen- 
tially a  night-bird.  He  hated  the  daylight, 
and  always  called  the  sun  a  hideous  planet, 
which,  he  declared,  lighted  nature  up  badly, 
and  spoiled  her  beauty.  Even  in  his  best 
days,  he  never  became  quite  himself  until 
his  kindly  little  friends  the  stars  blinked 
down  at  him  out  of  the  sky. 

The  brilliant  critic  of  the  "  Temps,"  M. 
Anatole  France,  tells  us,  in  a  kindly  sketch 
dedicated  to  the  memory  of  De  l'lsle  Adam, 
that,  being  in  want  of  exact  information  con- 
cerning the  poet's  ancestors  for  some  literary 
work  on  which  he  was  engaged,  he  went 
one  day  to  look  him  up  at  his  lodgings  at 
Montmartre.  He  was  received  smilingly, 
but  when  he  announced  the  object  of  his 
visit  the  master  of  the  house  looked  per- 
plexed, doubtful,  and  troubled.  He  began 
::  stammer,  and  at  las:,  almost  in  tears,  he 
exclaimed:  "How  can  you  expect  me  to 
talk  to  you  about  my  ancestors,  the  illustrious 
grand  master  and  the  famous  marshal,  in 
bright  sunshine  like  this,  at  ten  o'clock  in 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  177 

the  morning  ?  "  He  really  was  in  utter  dis- 
may, and  the  witty  critic  had  to  exert  himself 
to  the  utmost  to  restore  him  to  his  equa- 
nimity and  obtain  the  necessary  information 
from  him. 


N 


CHAPTER  XII. 


1879 — Tne  Rue  des  Martyrs  and  the  Rue  Rochechouart 
— The  poet's  room — His  extraordinary  indifference 
— Leon  Dierx — "  La  Devouee  " — Strange  habits — 
Villiers  in  the  street — The  Boulevard  Montmartre 
— Nocturnal  declamations — Villiers  as  a  composer 
— Two  operas,  "  Esmeralda  "  and  "  Prometheus  " — 
Melomania — Villiers  as  a  musical  performer — A 
strange  couple. 


N  1879  Villiers  inhabited  a  room 
in  a  furnished  hotel  in  the  Rue 
des  Martyrs,  nearly  at  the  corner 
of  the  Rue  Clauzel.    Chance  had 


made  us  neighbours,  for  I  was  living  at  the 
corner  of  the  Rue  Rochechouart  and  the  Rue 
de  Maubeuge,  at  the  very  top  of  an  enormous 
house  let  out  in  flats,  and  from  my  balcony  I 
could  see  all  over  Paris.  As  to  the  poet's 
room,  it  was  just  as  commonplace  as  might 
have  been  expected  in  a  tenth-rate  furnished 
lodging-house.    A  mahogany  bed,  chair,  and 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  179 

chest  of  drawers,  an  imitation  Wilton  carpet, 
and  the  inevitable  wardrobe  with  a  looking- 
glass  in  it.  Should  this  last  happen  to  gape 
open,  one  perceived  on  every  shelf,  not  linen, 
nor  clothes  of  any  description,  but  piles  of 
manuscript,  books,  newspapers, and  magazines. 

The  extreme  indifference  of  the  great 
writer  to  the  material  comforts  of  life  greatly 
assisted  him  in  bearing  the  pangs  of  poverty. 
I  never  knew  him  take  thought  for  the 
morrow,  in  the  literal  sense  of  the  term, 
though  he  thought  and  talked  a  great  deal 
about  the  future  in  general.  But  he  never 
troubled  his  head  as  to  whether  he  had  a 
shirt  to  his  back  ;  and  had  it  not  been  for  the 
care  of  some  devoted  friends,  I  really  believe 
he  would  have  ended  by  going  out-of-doors 
half-dressed,  or  by  spending  several  months 
in  bed  for  want  of  clothes.  Luckily,  a  sort 
of  earthly  providence  seemed  to  watch  over 
him,  and  supply  his  most  pressing  needs. 
One  of  his  best  loved  and  most  faithful  friends, 
Leon  Dierx,  lived  in  the  same  house,  and 
looked  after  him  without  seeming  to  do  so, 
for  Villiers  was  as  touchy  as  he  was  careless. 


180         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

But,  above  all  others,  there  was  a  worthy 
woman,  a  retired  midwife,  who  had  attached 
herself  to  the  poet  with  a  canine  devotion 
which  used  to  bring  the  tears  to  my  eyes.  The 
jests,  the  snubbing,  even  the  furies  of  her 
idol,  could  not  dishearten  her.  She  treated 
him  with  a  delicate  tenderness  which  the 
most  passionately  devoted  mistress  might  have 
envied.  The  great  writer,  with  the  Bohemian 
indifference  of  the  man  who  owns  nothing, 
used,  when  he  came  in  at  dawn,  worn  out 
with  holding  forth  and  discussing,  to  leave 
his  door  unlocked,  and  the  key  in  it.  This 
excellent  soul  would  seize  her  opportunity, 
come  in  on  tiptoe,  take  his  poor,  stained, 
shabby  garments,  mend  them  as  best  she 
could,  and  then  restore  them  to  their  place. 
Often  she  would  bring  a  clean  shirt,  and  lay 
it  on  the  foot  of  the  bed.  When  Villiers  took 
it  into  his  head  to  get  up  and  go  out,  about 
the  time  the  gas  was  being  lighted  in  the 
streets,  he  would  put  on  the  first  thing  that 
came  under  his  hand,  without  ever  noticing 
the  changes  in  and  additions  to  his  wardrobe 
made  by  this  admirable  woman,  whom  we 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  181 


had  nicknamed  "  La  Devouee,"  "  the  devoted 
one."  When  I  became  the  poet's  neighbour, 
I  often  made  use  of  her.  She  would  put 
coats  and  trousers  of  mine  beside  him  while 
he  slept ;  and  I  often  had  a  struggle  to  keep 
my  countenance  when  I  saw  my  friend  dressed 
up  in  my  cast-off  clothes,  which  used  to  give 
him  a  most  peculiar  appearance,  for  while  I 
was  long  and  thin,  he  was  short  and  broad. 
But  he  went  on  unmoved,  and  never  suspected 
anything. 

The  waiter  of  the  hotel  had  also  been 
coached.  He  used  to  enter  Villiers'  room, 
every  day  towards  noon,  carrying  a  large 
bowl  of  soup,  into  which  a  penny  roll  had 
been  cut  up.  Should  the  poet  be  asleep,  he 
took  care  not  to  rouse  him.  If  Villiers  was 
awake,  he  would  call  out  threateningly, 
"  What's  that  ?  "  "  Breakfast,  sir  !  "  said  the 
waiter,  and  hastily  putting  the  bowl  down, 
he  departed.  Mechanically  Villiers  would 
swallow  bread  and  soup,  and  think  no  more 
of  the  almost  daily  recurring  incident.  He 
never  had  any  other  meal  before  his  even- 
ing one. 


182 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 


I  got  into  the  habit  of  going  to  see  him 
between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noons. I  generally  found  him  sitting  up  in 
bed,  supported  by  several  pillows,  hard  at  work, 
and  only  stopping  his  writing  to  roil  a  ciga- 
rette, which,  as  often  as  not,  he  did  not  light. 
Lying  on  the  eiderdown  quilt,  which  covered 
his  knees,  was  a  pouchful  of  his  favourite 
Maryland  tobacco,  books  of  cigarette  papers, 
and  piles  of  sheets  covered  with  his  hne  and 
delicatelv-formed  handwriting.  He  never 
wrote  with  anything  but  pencil,  which  made 
the  compositors'  work  very  difficult,  especially 
as  in  reading  his  work  over  he  would  gene- 
rally alter  one  word  out  of  rive. 

As  soon  as  he  saw  me  ^sometimes  I  stood 
in  front  of  him  for  ten  minutes  before  he  was 
aware  of  my  presence,  so  completely  did  his 
work  absorb  him),  he  would  start,  and  exclaim, 
"What,  is  that  you.  cousin?  What  o'clock 
is  it  r  The  window,  the  window  !  "  and  before 
I  could  do  anything  to  stop  him,  he  would 
jump  out  of  bed,  and.  regardless  of  weather  or 
temperature,  throw  the  window  wide  open. 
Then  he  would  get  back  into  bed,  put  his 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  183 

hand  through  his  heavy  forelock,  look  at  me 
in  a  confused  sort  of  way,  and  end  by  burst- 
ing out  laughing.  These  antics  usually  had 
the  result  of  sending  tobacco,  cigarettes,  and 
sheets  of  paper  flying  across  the  room,  and,  if 
there  was  any  wind,  whirling  round  the  table. 
I  used  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  the  precious 
prose,  and  when  I  had  collected  and  put  the 
scattered  manuscript  in  order  as  well  as  I 
could,  I  would  sit  down  in  the  only  armchair, 
and  our  talks  would  begin.  At  last,  towards 
six  o'clock,  and  by  dint  of  persecution,  I  con- 
trived to  drag  him  from  between  the  sheets, 
and  out  we  went  into  the  streets. 

The  street !  Ah !  when  one  walked  it  arm-in- 
arm with  Villiers,  it  was  no  longer  a  common- 
place and  more  or  less  symmetrical  assemblage 
of  paving-stones,  asphalte  side-walks,  road- 
ways, shops,  and  houses.  It  became  a  strange 
entity,  with  a  million  different  living  existences 
— a  hybrid,  complex,  contradictory  being,  by 
turns  mysterious,  terrible,  cynical,  innocent, 
cruel,  loving,  tragic,  or  grotesque.  By  dint 
of  treading  it  for  so  many  years,  he  had  taken 
root  in  it,  and  was,  so  to  speak,  one  of  the 


i84         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

strangest  products,  the  most  striking  types,  of 
that  world,  at  once  so  great  and  so  limited,  in 
which  certain  figures  stand  out  with  such 
clearness  from  the  moving  mass,  that,  once 
seen,  they  can  never  be  forgotten.  Amongst 
those  physiognomies  which  seem  to  form  an 
integral  part  of  the  street  crowd,  and  which 
one  misses  there  when  death  removes  them, 
some  are  dramatic,  some  comic,  some  hideous. 
Some  are  sad.  some  poetic,  others  mad  :  but 
all  attract  your  attention,  and  even  obtrude 
themselves  on  your  notice,  by  some  personal 
originality  of  appearance.    And  in  no  case 
more  so  than  in  that  of  Yilliers  de  1'  Isle  Adam, 
with  his  supple  and  yet  uncertain  gait,  his 
immeasurable  scorn  of  the  laws  of  fashion,  and 
that  sleep-walking  look  which  the  cruel  and 
much  dreaded  irony  of  his  speech  and  laughter 
belied.  He  knew  all  the  secrets,  all  the  hidden 
sores,  all  the  grandeur,  of  the  merciless  streets 
of  Paris.    In  the  course  of  our  perambula- 
tions together,  he  would  point  out  to  me 
houses  of  whose  secret  dramas,  comedies,  or 
idylls,  he  knew  every  detail.    He  would  ex- 
plain, with  that  sort  of  stammer  which  added 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  185 

to  the  charm  of  his  talk,  that  the  exterior 
of  houses  generally  matched  their  interior 
history;  that  there  were  murderous  ones, 
broken-hearted  ones,  gay  ones ;  that  some 
were  passionate,  some  sepulchral,  some  volup- 
tuous, ay,  and  some  haunted  even.  For  he 
averred,  and  quoted  many  a  strange  story  in 
support  of  his  opinion,  that  there  were  more 
haunted  houses  in  Paris  than  in  any  other 
town  in  Europe.  Several  of  them  he  had 
inhabited  himself.  And  the  recent  events  in 
the  house  on  the  Quai  Voltaire  would  have 
filled  him  with  delight.  I  make  no  doubt 
whatever  he  would  have  liked  to  live  there. 

But  it  was  especially  when  we  reached  the 
Boulevard  Montmartre  "  a  l'heure  de  Tab- 
sinthe,"  that  Villiers  became  my  most  invalu- 
able guide  and  cicerone.  All  that  population 
of  charlatans  which  swarms  before  the  cafes, 
money-lenders,  money-getters,  and  rogues — 
sham  litterateurs  and  sham  artists — jour- 
nalists, venal,  if  not  already  bought,  scandal- 
mongers, masters  in  the  art  of  blackmail, 
stealers  of  other  men's  ideas,  well-dressed 
blackguards,  elegantly  apparelled  demi-mon- 


186         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

daines,  swindlers,  rastaquoueres,  he  unmasked 
them  all  in  short,  sharp,  vengeful  sentences, 
burning  with  implacable  scorn.  And  in  the 
very  bitterness  of  his  satire,  one  felt  how 
these  beasts  of  prey  must  have  devoured  his 
flesh  and  his  substance.  They  meanwhile 
pretended  to  respect,  while  hating  and  fearing 
him.  They  dreaded  those  terrible  sarcasms, 
which  the  next  day's  papers  would  noise 
abroad,  as  the  galley-slave  dreads  the  brand- 
ing iron.  So  they  bowed  themselves  down 
before  him,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  past  they 
stabbed  him  in  the  back. 

After  these  walks,  Villiers  often  came  and 
shared  the  simple  dinner  which  my  Breton 
cook  used  to  prepare  for  me  ;  and  this  made 
a  change  for  him  from  the  indescribable  and 
poisonous  eating-house  stews  on  which  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  feeding. 

There  were  two  things  besides  the  faci  of 
our  friendship  which  had  the  precious  gift  of 
retaining  Villiers  in  my  house  during  the 
evening  hours  :  my  balcony,  and  an  excellent 
piano  by  Pleyel,  which  was  the  chief  adorn- 
ment of  the  little  sitting-room. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  187 

On  soft  clear  nights  we  used  to  spend 
much  of  our  time  leaning  over  the  balcony, 
smoking  almost  silently,  and  letting  our 
dreamy  thoughts,  grave  or  gay,  wander  across 
the  great  tumultuous-looking  sea  of  roofs, 
whose  dark,  motionless  waves  seemed  to  lose 
themselves  in  the  mists  of  the  horizon.  Now 
and  then  Villiers  would  draw  himself  up, 
erect  and  very  pale,  and  stretching  out  his 
white  hand,  as  though  to  claim  the  attention 
of  the  night,  he  would  recite  in  a  ringing 
voice  some  passage  out  of  whatever  work  he 
might  be  engaged  upon.  His  memory  was 
so  good  that  he  knew  by  heart  almost  every- 
thing he  had  ever  written.  In  such  surround- 
ings the  effect  was  profoundly  impressive. 
High  over  our  heads  the  twinkling  stars ; 
at  our  feet  the  huge  city,  its  continuous  roar 
rising  towards  us ;  while  from  the  lips  of  the 
poet  the  harmoniously  balanced  periods  fell 
in  even,  eloquent  flow,  clear,  sonorous,  and 
strangely  melodious.  He  would  work  him- 
self up  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice,  and, 
his  eyes  fixed  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  and  his 
gestures  raised  to  God,  he  seemed  no  longer 


1 88         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

to  belong  to  earth.  And  I  listened,  dumb 
with  admiration.  And  when  at  last  he 
ceased  to  speak,  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  lamp 
had  suddenly  gone  out,  and  that  the  world 
was  darkened  around  me.  Villiers  thus 
recited  to  me  all  the  finest  passages  of  "  L'Eve 
Future,"  and  I  vividly  remember  the  state 
of  wild  delight  into  which  we  were  both  put 
by  the  chapter  headed  "The  Puppet  addresses 
the  Night."  1  We  would  re-enter  the  drawing- 
room,  and  Villiers,  still  shivering  with  the 
excitement  of  inspiration,  would  rush  to  the 
piano,  and,  striking  some  powerful  chords, 
would  begin  with  the  full  strength  of  his 
voice  the  magnificent  choral  invocation  in 
the  first  aci  of  "  Lohengrin  " — "  O  Dieu  dtc 
Ciel  en  quifaifoi  !  " 

If  Villiers  had  applied  himself  to  music, 
instead  of  choosing  literature  as  his  profession, 
I  believe  he  might  have  been  as  remarkable 
and  original  a  composer  as  he  was  a  writer. 
Music  is,  of  all  the  arts,  the  one  which 
requires  the  greatest  number  of  innate  and, 

1  In  the  final  edition  this  chapter  bears  the  title 
"God." 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  189 

so  to  speak,  instinctive  qualities,  and  these 
natural  gifts  he  possessed  to  an  extraordinary 
degree.  From  his  earliest  youth  he  had  a 
feeling  for  rhythm  and  time,  a  correctness  of 
ear,  and  a  musical  memory,  which  astonished 
his  teachers.  Yet  he  was  never  a  good 
pupil,  because  in  this,  as  in  everything  else, 
he  loathed  routine,  and  would  not  submit  to 
a  humdrum  daily  task.  But,  though  he 
journeyed  into  the  domain  of  literature,  his 
qualities  as  a  gifted  musician  followed  him 
thither,  and  his  very  prose  is  musical. 

In  the  course  of  his  life  he  composed  or 
improvised  a  goodly  number  of  strange 
melodies,  songs,  melopoeia,  which  unfor- 
tunately have  never  been  collected.  The 
best  known,  which  all  his  friends  have  heard 
him  sing,  and  to  which  I  have  already  re- 
ferred, interprets  that  wonderful  poem  by 
Charles  Baudelaire  : 

Nous  aurons  des  lits  pleins  d'odeurs  legeres, 
Des  divans  profonds  comme  des  tombeaux. 

Our  beds  shall  be  scented  with  sweetest  perfume, 
Our  divans  be  as  cool  and  as  dark  as  the  tomb. 


1 9o         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

I  remember  two  other  compositions  of  his 
on  lines  by  the  author  of  the  "  Fleurs  du 
Mai."  One,  "  Le  Vin  de  1' Assassin,"  is  the 
song  of  a  man  who  has  killed  his  wife,  and 
every  verse  ends  with  this  exclamation  by 
the  murderer,  to  which  the  music  gives  an 
unspeakable  and  indescribable  horror :  "  Je 
l'oublierai — si  je  le  puis." — "  I  will  forget 
her! — if  I  can!"  In  the  other,  entitled 
"  Recueillement"  ("  Meditation  "),  he  had 
obtained  a  striking  effect  with  the  lingering 
and  mysterious  accompaniment  to  which  he 
had  set  that  beautiful  line  :  "  Entends,  ma 
chere,  entends  la  douce  nuit  qui  marche  ! " 
— "  List,  oh,  my  dear !  list  to  the  night's  soft 
step!" 

I  remember,  too,  though  somewhat  vaguely, 
some  warlike  ironico-popular  songs  which 
Villiers  used  to  declaim  with  incomparable 
power.  He  had  composed  them  in  1870, 
in  collaboration  with  some  other  artists  in 
the  same  corps  of  francs-tireurs,  to  while 
away  the  long  night-watches  of  the  siege  ; 
so  that  the  noise  of  the  Prussian  artillery, 
answering  our  own,  was  their  first  accompani- 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  191 

ment.  If  I  add  to  these  short-lived  works 
a  sort  of  comic  opera,  which  never  had  a 
definite  title,  but  whose  chief  and  very 
ludicrous  characters  were  a  king,  Paf,  and 
his  prime  minister,  Toe,  and  the  chief  joke  in 
which  was  a  serenade  beginning  with  the 
words  : 

Si  ma  priere  criminelle 

Pouvait  toucher  les  dieux  retors  ! 

If  then  my  criminal  appeal 

Should  touch,  for  once,  the  wily  gods  ! 

I  shall,  I  think,  have  pretty  well  exhausted 
the  list  of  the  poet's  compositions  in  the 
lighter  class  of  music.  He  was  no  stranger 
to  the  more  serious  style.  He  carried  in  his 
head  (I  do  not  believe  he  ever  noted  down 
an  air  in  his  life)  two  complete  opera  scores, 
choruses,  orchestration,  and  directions  for 
scenery,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

One  was  composed  on  the  subject  of  the 
"  Esmeralda"  of  Victor  Hugo,  so  murderously 
handled  by  Mdlle.  Bertin,  the  other  on  the 
"  Prometheus  Unbound "  of  ^Eschylus,  put 
into  verse  by  my  father.    Those  few  privi- 


192         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

leged  persons  who,  like  myself,  had  the  good 
luck  to  hear  Villiers  interpret  the  principal 
scenes  of  these  two  operas  on  the  piano, 
will,  I  am  sure,  willingly  join  me  in  declaring 
that  he  affected  them  in  a  most  unexpected 
manner,  and  revealed,  rising  above  numerous 
gross  faults  and  signs  of  musical  inexperience, 
many  a  flash  of  genius  and  beauties  of  the 
highest  order.  Anybody  susceptible  of  the 
slightest  artistic  emotion  could  hardly  help 
being  stirred,  when,  after  a  brilliant  intro- 
duction, in  which  the  tinkling  of  glasses,  the 
clash  of  swords,  the  whirl  of  the  dance,  and 
the  shouts  of  the  revellers  were  all  cunningly 
mingled  in  seeming  disorder,  Villiers,  in  a 
strident  beggar's  voice,  began  the  wild  open- 
ing chorus  of  his  "  Esmeralda." 

Vive  Clopin,  Roi  de  Thune  ! 
Vivent  les  gueux  de  Paris  ! 
Faisons  nos  coups  a  la  brune 
Heure  ou  tous  les  chats  sont  gris. 
Dansons  !   Narguons  Pape  et  bulle ; 
Et  raillons  nous  dans  nos  peaux ; 
Qu'Avril  mouille  ou  que  Juin  brule 
La  plume  de  nos  chapeaux  ! 


r 


VILLIERS  DE  LTSLE  ADAM. 


193 


Now  a  merry  health  we  bring 
To  Paris  beggars  and  their  king  ! 
Now  we'll  practise  all  our  wiles  ! 
On  our  sport  old  Bacchus  smiles  ! 
Merry  fingers  dancing  snap 
At  Pope  or  bull,  nor  care  a  rap  ! 

Let  April  soak  or  June  embrown 
The  shabby  plumes  we've  worn  so  long, 
We'll  gaze  on  them  without  a  frown, 
And  turn  our  sorrows  to  a  song ! 

Laughing  at  your  sorry  plight, 
Shabby  plumes  we've  worn  so  long  ! 
Soaked  by  April's  showers  light, 
Burnt  by  June's  relentless  sun  ! 

Claude  Frollo's  air,  with  an  accompaniment 
of  Satanic  laughter,  made  one  shiver  with 
horror : 


Eh  bien,  oui !  qu'importe  ! 
Le  destin  m'emporte, 
La  main  est  trop  forte, 
Je  cede  a  sa  loi ! 

^E*  ife 

Demon  qui  m'enivres 
Qu'evoquent  mes  livres, 
Si  tu  me  la  livres 
Je  me  livre  a  toi ! 

O 


194         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

Regois  sous  ton  aile 
Le  pretre  infidele  ! 
L'enfer  avec  elle 
C'est  mon  ciel  a  moi ! 

For  good  then,  or  ill, 
'Tis  Destiny's  will ! 
In  terrified  awe 
I  bow  to  its  law ! 

Friend  raised  in  my  heart 
By  magic's  black  art ! 
If  thou  grant  her  to  me, 
I'll  yield  me  to  thee  ! 

Receive  'neath  thy  wing 
This  priest  full  of  sin  ! 
All  the  heaven  I  desire 
Is  her  kiss,  in  hell  fire  ! 

Having  accentuated  this  last  phrase  with 
furious  energy,  Villiers  would  spring  from  his 
seat,  in  an  indescribable  state  of  excitement, 
and  walk  up  and  down  the  room,  his  hands 
raised  to  heaven,  and  his  eyes  flashing, 
repeating  in  every  sort  of  tone  : 

L'enfer  avec  elle 
C'est  mon  ciel  a  moi ! 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  195 

Very  different  were  the  sensations  of  the 
audience  when  the  poet,  lightly  touching  the 
notes  with  his  delicate  hands,  began  the  slow, 
melancholy  rhythm  of  the  admirable  chorus  of 
the  Oceanides  in  the  "  Prometheus  Unbound," 
with  its  arpeggio  accompaniment  like  the  beat- 
ing of  distant  wings. 

(Having  calmed  the  paternal  fears) 

Je  faime,  apaise  ton  effroi, 
Sur  les  vents  aux  rapides  ailes 
J'arrive  de  loin  jusqu'a  toi. 

A  peine  ai-je  entendu  dans  notre  grotte  obscure 
Le  marteau  sur  le  fer,  que  mon  cceur  s'est  trouble\ 

J'ai  monte  sur  ce  char  aile 
Dans  mon  empressement  oubliant  ma  chaussure, 

Et  la  pudeur  au  sein  voile. 

#  #  #  #  # 

Oh,  corps  desseche  sur  la  pierre  ! 
Oh,  meurtrissures  et  douleurs  ! 
Un  nuage  effrayant  de  pleurs 
S'appesantit  sur  ma  paupiere  ! 

I  love  thee  !  Prithee  calm  thy  fear ! 

The  fleet-winged  winds  have  brought  me  here, 

Hastening  thy  trembling  heart  to  cheer  ! 


1 96         VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 

Scarce  did  I  hear  the  hammer  fall, 
With  iron  clang,  in  our  dark  grot, 
Than  terror-struck,  forgetting  all 
In  my  wild  haste,  and  recking  not 
Of  modesty,  with  close-veiled  breast — 
With  feet  unsandalled,  bosom  bare, 
I  sprang,  obeying  love's  behest, 
Upon  my  car,  and  clove  the  air. 

Jfc  Sim  4g»  Atm  4b 

*7v*  "A*  "TV"  "TV*  "TV" 

Oh,  wasted  body  on  the  stones  ! 
Oh,  cruel  bruises,  bitterest  pain  ! 
My  sorrow-laden  spirit  groans, 
And  from  my  eyes  the  teardrops  rain  ! 

I  have  said  enough,  I  think,  about  the 
compositions  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  to 
make  musicians  regret  that  his  friend  Cha- 
brier  would  never  take  seriously  the  poet's 
desire  that  he  should  endeavour  to  note  down 
some  of  his  beautiful  inspirations  in  writing. 
But  in  all  times  musicians  have  been  jealous 
of  their  art,  and  are  loath  to  admit  that  an  out- 
sider, ignorant  of  fugue  and  counterpoint,  can 
do  any  work  worth  listening  to.  As  a  general 
rule  they  may  be  right.  But  Villiers  was  an 
exception  to 'all  rules,  and  it  is  a  pity  that  the 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  197 

composer  of  "  Gwendoline  "  did  not  recognize 
that  fact. 

The  passion  for  melody  used  to  come  upon 
Villiers  in  regular  crises,  attacks  of  music 
madness  which  lasted  from  a  fortnight  to 
three  weeks.  During  these  periods  he  only 
lived  for  counterpoint.  The  only  great  men, 
for  him,  were  Bach,  Beethoven,  Mozart,  and 
Wagner.  Everything  he  wrote  referred  to 
music.  Everything  he  did  had  music  for  its 
end  and  aim.  Every  piano  he  came  across  in 
his  nightly  wanderings  served  him  to  express 
his  devotion  to  the  art.  He  only  associated 
with  musicians — and  such  musicians  !  Oh,  ye 
gods !  My  evenings  at  home  were  turned 
into  real  splendid  concerts,  at  which  he  was 
at  one  and  the  same  time  conductor,  orchestra, 
accompanist,  soloist,  and  critic !  As  a  pianist 
he  was  far  from  attaining  perfection — his 
fingering  and  time  were  both  bad.  As  a 
singer,  his  voice  was  unsteady,  and  often 
broke  ;  but  there  was  such  fervour  and  fiery 
enthusiasm  and  conviction  in  his  delivery 
and  declamation,  that  in  spite  of  his  imper- 
fections it  was  a  deep  delight  to  listen  to  him. 


198         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

It  was  during  one  of  these  fits  of  music 
madness  that  he  brought  me  a  very  odd 
couple  of  musicians,  brother  and  sister — Cor- 
sicans,  called,  I  think,  Olivetti.  The  man 
was  a  sort  of  a  thin  sunburnt  giant,  with  a 
black  stubbly  beard,  long  neglected  hair  falling 
over  his  shoulders,  and  the  eyes  of  an  incen- 
diary. My  Breton  servant  always  locked 
up  the  plate-box  as  soon  as  he  arrived. 
He  was  invariably  dressed  in  velvet,  brown, 
ribbed  velvet,  very  threadbare  ;  a  huge  red  silk 
scarf  was  rolled  round  and  round  his  neck,  and 
he  wore  a  soft  grey  felt  hat,  with  an  immense 
brim,  victoriously  cocked  on  one  side  of  his 
head.  Although  a  charming  pianist,  he  was 
almost  starving.  He  was  a  member  of  the 
"  Internationale,"  and  had  been  in  trouble  with 
the  Italian,  Russian,  and  French  police.  He 
had  also  been  compromised  during  the  Com- 
mune, and  was  forced  to  hide  and  to  live  from 
hand  to  mouth  on  a  few  ill-paid  lessons  and  the 
poor  salary  of  an  accompanist  to  the  singers 
in  tenth-rate  tea-gardens.  His  sister,  Giulia, 
was  a  handsome  soft-eyed  Italian  ;  she  had 
a  pretty  soprano  voice  and  some  musical 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  199 

knowledge.  Villiers  made  her  sing  Wagner, 
which  she  hated,  and  it  was  irresistibly  funny 
to  see  and  hear  his  bounds  of  rage,  and  angry 
shouts  of  indignation,  when  she  would  persist  in 
warbling  her  Italian  airs.  Fortune  has  smiled 
on  the  pretty  Giulia.  A  few  months  after  I 
made  her  acquaintance  she  captivated  and 
married  a  Chicago  gentleman  who  had  made 
a  considerable  pile  of  dollars  by  cutting  up, 
salting,  and  selling  pigs.  She  now  lives  in 
America.  She  took  her  brother  there  with 
her,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  is  not  quite 
such  an  energetic  Socialist  now  he  has  money 
in  his  pocket. 

Fortunately  Villiers'  musical  acquaintances 
did  not  all  possess  such  a  startlingly  Bohe- 
mian flavour.  He  owed  to  music  a  friend- 
ship and  an  admiration  which  brightened  the 
whole  of  his  intellectual  life.  His  intimacy 
with  Richard  Wagner  was  not  only  a  source 
of  consolation  and  intellectual  enjoyment  to 
him,  it  inspired  some  of  his  noblest  thoughts 
and  some  of  the  finest  pages  he  ever  wrote. 
The  example  of  that  marvellous  and  mighty 
genius,  insulted,  opposed,  and  scorned  to  his 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 


latest  hour,  without  this  flood  of  hatred  and 
injustice  ever  being  able  to  break  down  his 
faith  in  his  own  prodigious  powers,  helped 
Villiers  to  endure,  on  his  part,  the  disdainful 
smiles  and  indifference  of  his  contemporaries, 
strengthened  him  in  his  lofty  disdain  of  those 
well-beaten  paths  wherein  mediocre  intelli- 
gences gather  their  quickly-fading  laurels,  and 
fixed  him  immovably  in  his  convictions  and 
his  artistic  faith.  Though  in  mv  relation  of 
some  facts  concerning  this  friendship  I  speak 
with  veneration  of  Richard  Wagner.  I  can  no 
longer  hope  to  receive  any  blows  in  the  good 
cause.  The  author  of  "  Tristan  and  Isolt" 
is  hallowed  by  fashion,  and  politicians  no 
longer  dare  to  brin^the  ridiculous  accusation  of 
lack  of  patriotism  against  his  admirers.  But 
twenty  years  ago.  and  less,  it  was  considered 
the  correct  thing  to  run  down  Wagner's  music 
whether  you  were  acquainted  with  it  or  not. 
Nowadays  no  woman  of  fashion  thinks  her- 
self complete  if  she  does  not  fall  into  ecstasies 
over  the  right  places  in  "  Lohengrin"  and 
"  Tannhauser."  Every  self-respecting  pianist 
thumps  the  master's  overtures,  and  all  our 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  201 


young  girls  study  Elsa,  and  try  to  ape  her 
drooping  and  mystic  postures.  The  outcast 
of  yesterday  is  the  idol  of  to-day  !  Well,  God 
be  praised !    It  is  but  the  way  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


First  introduction  of  Wagner  and  Villiers  at  the  house  of 
Charles  Baudelaire — Failure  of  "  Tannhauser  "  at 
the  Paris  Opera  in  1861 — Portrait  and  character  of 
Richard  Wagner — His  friends  and  champions — His 
intimacy  with  Villiers — Reminiscences  of  his  youth 
and  early  poverty — Augusta  Holmes — Villiers'  visit 
to  Triebchen— The  "Rheingold"  at  Munich— Villiers 
de  ITsle  Adam's  artistic  confession  of  faith. 

T  was,  as  I  think  I  have  already  said, 
at  the  house  of  Baudelaire  in  1861, 
that  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  first 
met  Richard  Wagner.  This  meet- 
ing marks  the  date  of  what  was,  perhaps,  the 
bitterest  moment  in  the  stormy  life  of  the 
great  composer.  He  secretly  nursed  a  ran- 
corous memory  of  these  sufferings,  and,  after 
the  war,  his  unworthy  and  undignified  abuse 
of  Paris  betrayed  the  feeling.    By  dint  of 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  203 

hard  work  and  patience,  combined  with  his 
genius,  he  had  forced  Germany  to  receive 
and  recognize  him  as  a  master  in  his  genera- 
tion. But  he  was  determined  to  have  the 
approval  of  Paris  also,  and  offered  "  Tann- 
hauser  "  to  the  Imperial  Academy  of  Music. 
The  history  of  his  failure,  complete,  crushing, 
almost  unique  in  theatrical  history,  is  known 
to  all.  Wagner's  was  one  of  those  strange 
individualities  to  which  nobody  could  be  in- 
different ;  he  must  rouse  either  blind  admira- 
tion or  violent  hatred,  and  he  roused,  alas  ! 
more  hatred  than  devotion.  The  chorus  of 
evil-speaking,  abuse,  and  scorn,  which  rose 
from  every  side  after  the  performance  of  his 
work  in  Paris,  would  have  broken  down  any 
other  man  ;  but,  unlike  most  others,  the  great 
German  master  was  never  so  much  in  his 
element  as  in  a  desperate  fight.  It  seemed  to 
endow  him  with  fresh  strength  and  redoubled 
scorn,  and  he  generally  replied  to  each  torrent 
of  abuse  by  some  proud  defiance  thrown  in 
the  teeth  of  the  tastes,  the  conventionality, 
the  prejudices,  and  the  jealousies  of  the  day. 
At  this  moment,  then,  when  Wagner  was 


2o4         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

shining  with  all  the  light  of  his  indomitable 
determination,  Villiers,  young  and  enthusiastic 
as  he  was,  met  him  for  the  first  time.  This 
interview  never  faded  from  his  recollection. 
Richard  Wagner,  with  his  high,  remarkable 
forehead,  almost  terrifying  in  its  development, 
his  deep  blue  eyes,  with  their  slow,  steady, 
magnetic  glance,  his  thin,  strongly-marked 
features,  changing  from  one  shade  of  pallor 
to  another,  his  imperious-looking  hooked  nose, 
his  delicate,  thin-lipped,  unsatisfied,  ironical 
mouth,  his  exceedingly  strong  projecting  and 
pointed  chin,  seemed  to  the  poet  like  the 
archangel  of  celestial  combat.  And  on  his 
side,  in  those  hours  of  bitterness,  the  soul  of 
the  great  musician  must  have  been  strongly 
drawn  towards  those  few  select  spirits,  who, 
in  spite  of  adverse  clamour,  boldly  took  up 
his  quarrel  and  defended  and  admired  him. 
His  strong  friendship  with  Catulle  Mendes, 
Baudelaire,  Villiers,  and  a  few  others,  dated 
from  this  epoch  ;  but  similarity  of  tastes,  and  a 
way  of  looking  at  dreams  and  reality,  men 
and  things,  identical  with  the  other's,  specially 
attracted  the  young  poet  and  the  already 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  205 

grey-haired  musician  towards  each  other. 
They  were,  besides,  united  by  a  common 
passion  for  midnight  walks.  Wandering  about, 
careless  of  weather,  hour,  or  locality,  through 
the  mysterious  sleeping  streets  of  Paris,  the 
two  friends  seldom  separated  before  the  dawn. 
Once,  as  they  went  down  a  long  dreary  street 
which  ends  at  the  Quai  Saint  Eustache,  Wag- 
ner suddenly  pointed,  with  a  tragic  gesture,  to 
the  window  of  a  garret  at  the  very  top  of  a 
high  house.  There  it  was  that  he  had  really 
despaired ;  there  he  had  almost  died  of 
hunger,  had  meditated  suicide,  and  there,  too, 
in  the  midst  of  the  blackest  poverty,  he  had 
written  one  of  his  most  powerful  and  poetic 
works.  He  told  Villiers,  in  that  French 
stuffed  with  Teutonisms  which  made  his 
conversation  so  odd-sounding,  all  the  extra- 
ordinary adventures  of  his  youth  in  Paris  : 
how,  towards  1839,  impelled  by  destiny, 
he  suddenly  left  Riga,  in  the  theatre  of 
which  town  he  conducted  the  orchestra,  and 
embarked  on  a  sailing-ship  which  was  going  to 
London,  intending  to  go  thence  to  Paris.  A 
fearful  storm  wrecked  the  vessel  on  the  Nor- 


206         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

wegian  coast ;  but  Wagner  did  not  lose  courage, 
and  reached  the  end  of  his  journey.  Almost 
unknown  as  he  was,  and  in  a  most  precarious 
pecuniary  position,  he  saw  the  doors  of  the 
Parisian  theatres  scornfully  shut  in  his  face. 
Spurred  by  necessity,  he  tried  to  write  ballads 
for  the  concerts,  but,  alas  !  he  was  not  the  man 
to  write  French  romances,  and  his  efforts  only 
aroused  derision.  To  be  brief,  hidden  in  that 
garret,  like  a  fox  buried  in  his  lair,  penniless, 
starving,  he  was  meditating  suicide,  when  a 
musical  publisher  came  and  proposed  to  him 
to  arrange  some  operatic  airs  for  the  cornet  a 
piston ;  and  so  the  cornet  a  piston  was  the 
instrument  of  Richard  Wagner's  salvation  ! 
Living  with  the  utmost  economy,  he  con- 
trived, by  the  end  of  a  year  of  unexampled 
privation,  to  get  together  the  necessary  sum 
for  hiring  a  piano.  "  I  trembled  in  every 
limb,"  he  said  to  Villiers,  "  when  I  first  ran 
my  fingers  over  the  keys,  but  I  soon  found,  to 
my  exquisite  joy,  that  I  was  still  a  musician." 

And  now  the  muse  of  inspiration  poured 
out  upon  him  the  fulness  of  her  riches.  The 
memory  of  the  shipwreck  in  which  he  had  so 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  207 

lately  shared,  of  the  sea  as  he  had  seen  it 
under  the  awful  flashes  of  the  tempest,  the 
deep  fiords,  the  bluff  promontories,  haunted 
his  imagination  ;  then  suddenly  he  saw,  flying 
across  the  foggy  Scandinavian  sea  swift  as  an 
arrow,  illuminated  by  a  dazzling  lightning  flash, 
the  dreary  ship  of  that  legendary  hero,  "  The 
Flying  Dutchman.''  And  in  the  bare,  cold, 
Parisian  garret,  Richard  Wagner,  indifferent 
now  to  all  physical  suffering,  alone  with  his 
genius,  and  with  his  shabby,  hired  piano,  com- 
posed and  wrote  that  splendid  lyric  poem  which 
he  christened  "  Der  Fliegende  Hollander." 

But  if  I  was  to  give  way  to  the  temptation 
of  recalling  all  Villiers'  conversations  concern- 
ing his  great  and  musically-gifted  friend, 
another  volume  would  have  to  be  grafted  on 
to  this  one  of  my  recollections  of  himself. 
Never,  indeed,  was  the  author  of  "  Axel " 
more  eloquent,  and  indeed  prolix,  than  when 
his  theme  was  Richard  Wagner.  One  felt 
that  a  part  of  the  soul  of  the  master  had 
literally  entered  his ;  and  when  he  para- 
phrased in  words  some  one  of  his  works,  he 
gave  you,  so  to  speak,  an  illusion  of  music. 


208 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 


In  the  fine  book  which  Catulle  Mendes  has 
dedicated  to  the  glory  of  the  German  maestro, 
he  relates  that  Yilliers  had  written  down  one 
of  these  paraphrases,  I  think  the  one  of  the 
prelude  to  "  Lohengrin."  I  do  not  think  it  has 
ever  been  published — I  have  never  been  able 
to  come  upon  it.  If  the  former  director  of  the 
"  Revue  Fantaisiste  "  has  the  work  of  his  late 
comrade  in  his  possession,  and  can  be  induced 
to  publish  it  he  will  deserve  the  gratitude  of 
all  lovers  of  literature. 

Such  was  Yilliers'  passionate  cultus  for 
"Wagner,  that,  in  spite  of  all  his  poverty,  I 
might  say  penury,  he  would  contrive  to  make 
long  journeys  into  Switzerland  and  Germany 
in  order  to  enjoy  the  company,  the  conversa- 
tion, and  the  music  of  the  author  of  "  Tristan 
and  Isolt."  During  one  of  these  distant  ex- 
peditions to  Triebchen,  near  Lucerne,  he  came 
upon  a  young  girl  whom  he  had  already  met 
in  Paris,  and  whose  splendid  talents,  now  well 
known  and  uncontested,  he  had  been  among 
the  first  to  recognize  and  applaud — I  refer  to 
Mdlle.  Augusta  Holmes.  Yilliers  was  en- 
raptured at  once  with  this  young  and  beautiful 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  209 

artist,  admirably  gifted,  filled  with  sacred  fire, 
ready  to  make  any  sacrifice  on  the  altar  of  art, 
and  making  light,  in  her  sturdy  confidence,  of 
the  thousand  obstacles  which  bar  a  woman's 
entrance  into  the  road  to  glory.  Long  after- 
wards, in  1885,  the  great  writer,  in  a  charm- 
ing article,  written  in  an  enthusiastic  and 
stirring  strain,  detailed  his  recollections  of 
his  intercourse  with  the  young  musician.  I 
quote  two  passages  from  it.  I  must  premise 
that  Villiers  saw  her  for  the  first  time  at 
Versailles,  in  the  house  of  her  father,  Mr. 
Dalkeith  Holmes,  in  the  Rue  de  FOrangerie, 
whither  he  had  been  carried  off  rather  against 
the  grain,  by  M.  Camille  Saint  Saens,  who 
was  his  companion  that  day : 

"  That  evening,  we  heard  some  oriental 
melodies,  the  earliest  musical  thoughts  of  the 
future  authoress  of 'Les  Argonautes,'  'Lutece,' 
'  Irelande,'  and  'Pologne,'  and  which  seemed 
to  me  to  be  already  almost  free  from  the 
conventionalities  of  the  old  style  of  music. 

"  Augusta  Holmes  had  one  of  those  in- 
telligent voices  which  can  adapt  itself  to  any 
register  and  indicate  the  most  delicate  shades 

p 


2io         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

of  a  musical  work.  I  am  generally  inclined 
to  mistrust  those  cleverly-managed  organs, 
which  often  (to  the  appreciation  of  an  un- 
initiated audience)  immensely  heighten  the 
value  of  a  commonplace  composition.  But 
in  this  case  the  air  was  worthy  of  the  accent, 
and  I  was  enchanted  with  the  '  Sirene,'  the 
'  Chanson  du  Chamelier,'  and  the  '  Pays 
des  Reves,'  not  to  mention  the  '  Hymne 
Irlandais,'  which  the  young  composer  inter- 
preted so  that  pine-encircled  glades  and 
distant  heaths  rose  before  our  mind's  eye.  It 
was  altogether  a  bright  spot,  musically  speak- 
ing, pointing  to  an  inevitably  brilliant  future. 
The  evening  ended  with  some  passages  from 
Wagner's  '  Lohengrin,'  lately  published  in 
France,  and  to  which  Saint  Saens  introduced 
us.  The  young  composer  was  passionately 
smitten  with  the  new  music,  and  her  admira- 
tion for  the  author  of  '  Tristan  and  Isolt'  has 
never  since  belied  itself." 

Here  is  the  account  of  the  meeting  at 
Triebchen :  "  Two  months  before  the  Ger- 
man war  I  met  Mdlle.  Holmes  at  Triebchen, 
near   Lucerne,  in  Richard   Wagner's  own 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  211 


house  ;  her  father  having,  in  spite  of  his  great 
age,  decided  to  take  the  journey  to  Munich, 
in  order  that  the  young  composer  might  hear 
the  first  part  of  the  '  Nibelungenlied.' 

"'A  little  less  sentiment  for  my  wishes, 
mademoiselle ! '  said  Wagner,  after  he  had 
listened  to  her  with  the  clear-sighted  and 
prophetic  attention  of  genius.  'I  do  not 
want  to  be,  to  a  creative  genius  like  yours, 
the  manchineel-tree  whose  shadow  stifles  all 
the  birds  that  come  within  it.  A  word  of 
advice !  Do  not  belong  to  any  school — espe- 
cially not  to  mine  I ' 

"  Richard  Wagner  did  not  wish  the  '  Rhein- 
gold'  to  be  played  at  Munich.  Although 
the  score  had  been  published,  he  objected  to 
the  work  being  seen  apart  from  the  three 
other  portions  of  the  'Nibelungenlied.'  His 
great  dream,  ultimately  realized  at  Bayreuth, 
was  to  give  a  representation  lasting  four 
successive  evenings,  of  this,  the  great  work 
of  his  life.  But  the  impatience  of  his  young 
and  fanatical  admirer,  the  King  of  Bavaria, 
had  broken  all  bounds,  and  the  '  Rheingold ' 
was  to  be  played  by  '  royal  command.'  Wag- 


212 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


ner,  who  had  refused  all  participation  and  all 
assistance,  anxious  and  saddened  by  the  way 
in  which  the  unity  of  his  great  masterpiece 
was  about  to  be  destroyed,  had  forbidden 
any  friend  of  his  to  attend  the  performance. 
And  many  musicians  and  men  of  letters, 
amongst  them  myself,  who  had  twice  travelled 
to  Germany  to  hear  the  master's  music, 
hardly  knew  whether  to  obey  his  distressing 
injunction  or  not. 

"  *  I  shall  look  upon  anybody  who  coun- 
tenances that  massacre,  as  my  personal 
enemy,'  he  said  to  us. 

"  Mdlle.  Holmes,  although  driven  into  sub- 
mission by  the  threat,  was  reduced  to  despair ! 

"  However,  the  letter  of  Kapellmeister 
Hans  Richter,  who  was  conducting  the 
orchestra  at  Munich,  having  somewhat  re- 
assured Wagner,  his  resentment  against  the 
passionate  zealots  of  his  music  softened,  and 
we  took  advantage  of  the  momentary  calm 
to  depart,  almost  on  the  sly. 

"  I  have  before  me  as  I  write  a  letter,  and 
rather  a  bitter  one,  which  Wagner  wrote 
me  to  Munich,  and  in  which  he  says,  'So 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  213 

you  have  gone  with  your  friends  to  see  how 
people  can  toy  with  a  serious  work — well ! 
well !  I  count  on  some  inexterminable  pas- 
sages in  it,  to  atone  for  much  that  might 
appear  incomprehensible ! ' 

"  The  predictions  of  the  master  were  falsi- 
fied by  the  brilliant  triumph  of  the  1  Rhein- 
gold ' — a  triumph  more  foreseen  than  actually 
apparent,  for  this  opera  is  only  fully  in- 
telligible when  seen  in  conjunction  with  the 
three  other  portions  of  the  '  Nibelungenlied/ 
of  which  it  is  the  key.  All  his  adherents 
were  present  at  the  performance,  in  spite  of 
his  threats  and  prohibitions,  and  I  remember 
seeing  that  night,  in  the  first  row  of  the 
visitors'  gallery,  Mdlle.  Holmes,  sitting  next 
to  the  Abbe  Liszt,  and  following  the  render- 
ing of  the  opera  in  the  orchestral  score- 
book  belonging  to  the  illustrious  musician " 
("Vie  Moderne,"  Paris,  1885). 

Need  I  add  that  Villiers  was  one  of  the 
first  Frenchmen  to  hurry  to  Bayreuth  in 
1876,  when,  thanks  to  the  sumptuous  munifi- 
cence of  the  King  of  Bavaria,  Richard  Wag- 
ner was  able  at  last  to  realize  his  great  dream. 


2i4         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

I  should  like  to  close  this  veracious  chro- 
nicle of  the  fraternal  relations  which  existed 
between  the  great  German  master  and  the 
great  French  thinker,  by  quoting  a  page  or 
two  written  by  Yilliers  de  Flsle  Adam,  which, 
though  almost  unknown  to  scholars,  would 
nevertheless  be  worthy  in  every  way  to 
become  the  fitting  preface  of  his  collected 
works.  Yilliers,  in  a  purely  imaginary  con- 
versation, put  into  the  mouth  of  the  beloved 
master,  has  summed  up  all  his  own  artistic 
and  religious  convictions. 

When  we  consider  how  hard  and  miserable 
was  the  life  of  him  who  poured  out  his  soul 
and  his  conscience  in  this  magnificent  con- 
fession of  an  artist's  faith,  we  can  hardly 
read  it  without  deep  emotion. 

"  One  twilight  evening  we  were  sitting  in 
the  darkening  room  looking  over  the  garden, 
the  rare  words  we  interchanged,  with  long 
spaces  of  silence  between  them,  scarcely  dis- 
turbing our  pleasing  meditations,  when  I 
asked  Wagner,  without  useless  perambula- 
tion, whether  it  was,  so  to  speak,  artificially 
(by  dint  of  science  and  intellectual  power), 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  215 

that  he  had  succeeded  in  investing  his  works, 
'  Rienzi,'  '  Tannhauser,'  '  Lohengrin,'  '  The 
Flying  Dutchman,'  even  the  '  Meistersinger ' 
and  '  Parsifal,'  over  which  he  was  already- 
brooding,  with  that  strongly  mystic  quality 
which  emanates  from  them  all  ?  Whether, 
in  short,  he  had  been  sufficiently  freethinking 
and  independent  of  conscience  to  be  no  more 
of  a  Christian  than  the  subject  of  these  lyric 
dramas  demanded  of  him ;  and,  finally,whether 
he  looked  at  Christianity  in  the  same  light 
as  that  in  which  he  viewed  those  Scandi- 
navian myths,  the  symbolism  of  which  he 
had  so  magnificently  illustrated  in  the  Nibe- 
lungen  Ring.  This  question  was  almost 
authorized,  indeed,  by  something  which  had 
struck  me  very  much  in  one  of  his  principal 
operas,  '  Tristan  and  Isolt,'  viz.,  that  in 
that  work,  in  which  the  most  intense  pas- 
sionate love  is  scornfully  ascribed  to  the 
influence  of  a  love  philtre,  the  name  of  God 
is  never  mentioned  a  single  time. 

"  I  shall  always  remember  the  look  Wag- 
ner fixed  on  me  out  of  the  depths  of  his 
wonderful  eyes.   '  Why,'  he  said  with  a  smile, 


2i6         VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 

'  if  I  did  not  feel  in  my  inmost  soul  the 
living  light  and  love  of  that  Christian  faith 
of  which  you  speak,  my  works,  which  all 
bear  witness  to  it,  and  in  which  I  have  in- 
corporated all  my  mental  powers,  as  well  as 
the  whole  of  my  lifetime,  would  be  the  works 
of  a  liar,  of  an  ape  !  How  could  I  be  childish 
enough  to  work  myself  up  into  a  frenzy 
about  what  at  bottom  I  should  know  to  be 
an  imposture  ?  My  art  is  my  prayer ;  and, 
believe  me,  no  true  artist  can  sing  otherwise 
than  as  he  believes,  speak  but  of  what  he 
loves,  write  otherwise  than  as  he  thinks. 
Those  who  lie,  betray  it  in  their  work,  which 
thenceforth  becomes  sterile  and  valueless, 
for  no  true  work  of  art  can  be  accomplished 
without  disinterestedness  and  sincerity. 

" '  Yes !  he  who  for  the  sake  of  some  low 
interests,  for  success,  or  for  money,  tries  to 
make  a  fictitious  faith  stir  in  a  so-called  work 
of  art,  betrays  himself,  and  only  brings  forth 
a  corpse.  Should  such  a  traitor  pronounce 
the  name  of  God,  not  only  does  that  name 
not  signify  to  the  listener  what  he  who  pro- 
nounces it  would  have  it  mean,  but  being, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  217 

as  it  is,  a  word,  and  therefore  a  living  thing, 
it  gives,  by  his  supreme  profanation,  the  lie 
to  him  who  utters  it.  No  human  being  can 
be  deceived  by  such  a  device,  and  the  author 
of  it  can  only  be  valued  at  his  proper  worth 
by  those  of  his  own  genus,  who  recognize  in 
his  want  of  truth  that  which  they  are  them- 
selves. 

"  '  The  first  sign  that  marks  the  real  artist 
is  a  burning,  precise,  sacred,  unalterable  faith  ; 
for  in  every  artistic  production  worthy  of 
a  human  being,  the  artistic  value  and  the 
living  value  are  blended  together,  in  the  dual 
unity  of  the  body  and  the  soul.  The  work 
of  a  man  without  faith  can  never  be  the 
work  of  an  artist,  because  it  will  always  lack 
that  living  flame  which  raises,  enraptures,  fills, 
warms,  and  fortifies  the  soul.  It  will  always 
be  like  a  corpse,  galvanized  into  life  by  some 
trivial  machine.  At  the  same  time  let  this  be 
clearly  understood:  if,  on  the  one  hand,  Know- 
ledge alone  can  only  produce  clever  amateurs, 
great  inventors  of  "  methods,"  of  modes  of 
action,  of  expressions,  more  or  less  consum- 
mately skilful  in  the  manufacture  of  their 


218  VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


mosaics,  and  also  shameless  plagiarists,  who, 
to  put  one  off  the  scent,  will  assimilate 
millions  of  incongruous  sparks  of  intelligence, 
which  lose  their  brightness  when  they  re- 
appear out  of  the  tinselled  emptiness  of  such 
minds, — on  the  other  hand,  Faith  alone  can 
only  produce  and  give  vent  to  those  sublime 
cries  of  the  soul  which,  because  they  cannot 
properly  formulate  themselves,  appear,  alas ! 
to  the  vulgar,  to  be  but  incoherent  clamour. 
The  true  artist,  he  who  can  create,  and  put 
together,  and  transfigure  his  ideas,  needs 
these  two  great  gifts  indissolubly  united, 
Knowledge  and  Faith.  As  for  myself,  since 
you  ask  me,  above  all  things  I  am  a  Christian, 
and  the  accents  which  touch  you  in  my  work 
owe  their  inspiration  to  that  alone.' " 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


The  marquis  and  the  marquise — Villiers'  filial  tender- 
ness— A  monomania  for  speculation — A  letter  from 
the  marquis — Villiers'  contributions  to  the  press — The 
"  Figaro  " — "  La  Republique  des  Lettres  " — Catulle 
Mendes — J.  K.  Huysmans — The  "Contes  Cruels" — 
Two  quotations — Villiers'  high  spirits — His  loss  of 
illusion — A  study  by  M.  G.  Guiches — Villiers  as  a 
talker  and  a  mimic — Some  unpublished  traits  of  Dr. 
Triboulat  Bonhomet — Bonhomet  the  commander-in- 
chief — Bonhomet  the  ermine-hunter — Bonhomet  ful- 
filling the  letter  of  the  Scriptures — Bonhomet's  true 
adventures  at  Bayreuth — The  political  opinions  of  Vil- 
liers dePIsle  Adam — An  unexpected  toast — Arupture. 


lived  on,  supported  and  consoled  by  her  great 
love  for  her  Matthias.  Yes,  the  old  marquis 
and  marquise  were  still  in  the  land  of  the 


E  AN  WHILE,  lost  in  a  poor  and 
remote  quarter  of  Paris,  leading 
a  lonely  existence  made  up  of  priva- 
tion and  sacrifices,  a  frail  old  lady 


220         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

living.  Poverty,  age,  and  suffering,  cold  and 
hunger,  had  not  succeeded  in  putting  out 
their  feeble  lamp.  The  marquise,  as  I  have 
said,  only  lived  for  and  in  her  son,  and  she 
bravely  endured  the  cruellest  trials,  finding  her 
buckler  against  all  ills  and  her  consolation  in 
all  her  sorrows  in  the  worship  and  tenderness 
of  her  boy.  Villiers  was  more  than  a  good 
son — he  was  an  admirable  son.  I  think  he 
poured  out  all  the  treasures  of  tenderness 
which  were  garnered  in  that  great  heart  of  his 
upon  his  mother.  When  he  spoke  of  his 
parents,  especially  of  her  (he  never  did 
mention  them  except  to  his  closest  intimates, 
and  those  gentlemen  of  the  boulevards  never 
heard  him  profane  the  sacred  name  of  father 
or  of  mother  in  their  company),  the  tears 
would  come  into  his  eyes.  The  moment  his 
pen  brought  him  in  any  money,  he  would  tear 
off  to  the  Avenue  Malakoff  (where  the  old 
people  inhabited  two  modest  rooms),  to  share 
his  earnings  with  them,  and  would  return 
from  such  expeditions  with  a  radiant  face. 
Nevertheless,  the  marquis  used  to  cause  him 
some  considerable  trouble.    Time,  far  from 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


221 


calming  the  old  nobleman's  mania  for  specula- 
tion, had  only  intensified  it.  Age  and  infir- 
mity had  not  diminished  his  activity,  and  he 
walked  the  streets  from  morning  till  night  on 
the  look-out  for  wonderful  opportunities.  No- 
body, luckily,  paid  him  much  attention,  but  he 
would  try  to  insist  on  whirling  Matthias  away 
with  him,  and  making  him  share  in  the  execu- 
tion of  the  extraordinary  plans  he  used  to  pro- 
pound daily.  Hence  arose  occasional  and 
lively  discussions,  which  ended  in  a  hearty 
laugh  on  Villiers'  part,  and  the  indignant 
retirement  of  his  father,  who  would  exclaim, 
"  Well,  in  spite  of  all  your  talent,  Matthias,  you 
will  never  be  anything  but  an  empty  dream  !  " 
The  old  marquis  kept  his  dreams  and  visions 
as  long  as  he  lived.  The  very  year  of  his 
death  he  wrote  his  son  the  following  letter, 
which  depicts  the  extraordinary  state  of  this 
astonishing  visionary's  mind  better  than  the 
longest  psychological  study  : 

"  24M  July,  1883. 

"  My  dear  Matthias, 

"We  desire  to  make  known  our  good 


222         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

fortune  to  you.    I  hereby  introduce  to  you, 

Mr.    L  ,    who  is  at  this  moment  the 

possessor  of  25,000  francs,  and  who,  at  this 
time  of  writing,  owns  a  well-furnished  dining- 
room,  and  who  is  about  to  furnish  his  recep- 
tion rooms  with  splendid  pink  satin  curtains 
(which  I  have  had  in  my  hands),  also  a  good 
piano,  a  superior  sofa,  and  furniture  to  match. 
Besides  this,  he  will  have  a  beautiful  country 
place,  with  a  magnificent  feudal  residence 
with  turrets,  a  park,  fields,  meadows,  and 
vineyards,  and  several  leagues  of  forest, 
wherein  we  shall  be  able  to  exercise  our 
prowess  as  sportsmen.  And  we  shall  own 
(in  a  perfectly  regular  manner)  some  mines, 
the  riches  of  which  I  expect  you  to  help  me  to 
work,  with  our  own  capital. 

' '  Your  father, 
"Joseph  de  Villiers  de  l'Isle  Adam." 

This  period  of  Villiers'  life,  although  the 
necessary  investigations  for  the  writing  of 
"L'Eve  Future"  absorbed  him  very  much,  was 
exceedingly  productive,  and  his  literary  noto- 
riety enabled  him  to  place  his  copy  very  easily. 


VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM.  223 

He  contributed  tales  to  several  daily  papers 
which  piqued  themselves  on  their  literary 
columns.  The  "  Figaro,"  which,  to  its  honour 
be  it  said,  always  liked  and  appreciated  him, 
used  to  receive  his  work  with  deference.  But 
his  most  active  collaboration  was  given  to  a 
new  magazine,  "  La  Republique  des  Lettres," 
a  publication  too  purely  artistic  to  have  any 
chance  of  longevity  in  this  matter-of-fact 
century.  In  the  office  of  the  "  Republique 
des  Lettres"  he  found  many  of  the  friends  of 
his  earlier  days,  who  had  rallied  round  the 
former  director  of  the  "  Revue  Fantaisiste," 
Catulle  Mendes.  Like  himself  these  artists 
were  all  growing  old  and  grey  in  the  heavy 
harness  of  life  and  thought.  All  of  them  had 
lost  the  greater  part  of  their  illusions,  but  all 
had  preserved  intact  their  sacred  and  coura- 
geous love  of  the  ideal  and  the  beautiful,  and 
their  indignant  horror  of  empty  platitudes. 
To  this  well-trained  phalanx  some  youthful 
spirits  had  joined  themselves,  and  here  De 
Tlsle  Adam  laid  the  foundation  of  his  friend- 
ship with  a  young  writer  of  special  and  original 
talent,  J.  K.  Huysmans.    This  acquaintance 


224         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

was  to  ripen,  some  years  later,  into  a  deep, 
tender,  manly  affection.  Providence  had 
marked  out  the  now  justly  celebrated  author 
of  "  A  Rebours,"  and  so  many  other  deep 
and  clever  works,  to  soften  by  his  presence 
and  his  delicate  strong-heartedness  the  cruel 
death-agony  of  the  poet.  I  shall  return  later 
to  the  subject;  of  this  intimacy. 

Villiers  also  busied  himself  with  collect- 
ing his  scattered  tales  into  a  volume  called 
"  Contes  Cruels,"  which,  published  the  following 
year  by  Calmann  Levy,  set  the  seal  upon  his 
reputation  as  a  great  artist.  This  work, 
better  perhaps  than  any  other,  shows  the 
author's  complex,  original,  and  many-sided 
talent.  His  symbolism  is  magnificently  exem- 
plified in  such  pieces  of  writing  as  "  Impatience 
de  la  Foule  "  and  "  Vox  Populi ; "  his  mysticism 
shines  brilliantly  in  "Vera;"  his  deep  and 
bitter  sense  of  philosophical  raillery  produces 
those  strangely  attractive,  almost  prophetic 
tales,  "  La  Machine  a  Gloire,"  "  LAffichage 
Celeste,"  "  L'Etna  chez  soi,"  to  which  last  the 
recent  anarchical  struggles  in  Paris  give  a 
striking  reality.    And  in  those  brilliant  pages 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  225 

of  "  L'Annonciateur,"  which  even  one  fresh 
from  the  perusal  of  Gustave  Flaubert's  "  He- 
rodias  "  must  needs  read  with  profound  emo- 
tion, the  poet  and  the  idealist  pours  forth  all 
the  overflowing  wealth  of  his  imagination. 
It  was  concerning  "  L'Annonciateur  "  that  its 
author  wrote :  "  If  I  think  great  thoughts, 
people  will  say  that  what  I  write  is  fine  litera- 
ture ;  yet  it  is  but  the  clear  expression  of  my 
thought,  and  not  literature  at  all ;  for  that  has 
no  real  existence,  beyond  being  the  clear  ex- 
pression of  what  I  think." 

He  has  elsewhere  described  his  own  idio- 
syncrasy, and  his  destiny  as  an  artist  and  a 
thinker,  in  these  remarkable  and  sadly  sym- 
bolic terms  :  "  Alas  !  we  are  like  some  mighty 
crystal  vase  of  Eastern  story,  filled  with  the 
pure  essence  of  dead  roses,  and  hermetically 
enveloped  in  a  triple  covering  of  wax,  of  gold, 
and  of  parchment.  One  single  drop  of  the 
essence  thus  preserved  within  the  precious 
urn  (the  fortune  of  a  whole  race,  handed 
down  by  inheritance  as  a  sacred  charge, 
hallowed  by  the  ancestral  blessings),  suffices 
to  perfume  many  vessels  of  pure  water,  which 

Q 


226         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

in  their  turn  will  embalm  the  air  of  the  tomb 
or  dwelling  wherein  they  are  set,  for  many  a 
year.  But  (and  herein  lies  our  crime)  we  do 
not  resemble  those  other  jars  filled  with  com- 
moner perfume,  scentless  and  melancholy  phials 
not  worth  reclosing,  whose  virtue  weakens  and 
melts  away  under  every  passing  breath."  It 
would  be  wrong  to  imagine  Villiers  as  a  sple- 
netic and  silent  person  in  everyday  life,  not- 
withstanding the  bitterness  of  his  irony  and 
his  immense  range  of  thought.  He  was  gifted, 
on  the  contrary,  with  a  robust  cheerfulness, 
never  more  apparent  than  when  he  was 
struggling  with  difficulty.  In  the  early  days 
of  his  Paris  life,  he  had  given  rein,  in  all 
companies,  to  that  enjoyment  of  the  fact  of 
living  which  expressed  jtself  in  his  case  by  an 
overflow  of  wit  and  humour.  But  he  soon 
perceived,  alas  !  that  the  raptures  of  his  audi- 
ence were  not  disinterested.  When  these 
literary  good  fellows  saw  De  1'  Isle  Adam 
coming,  they  would  get  out  their  note- 
books, and  his  sayings,  his  ideas  for  stories, 
his  humorous  fancies,  were  all  carefully 
collected  by  these  skimmers  of  the  literary 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  227 

pot.  So  that  the  poor  poet,  opening  a  news- 
paper or  magazine  at  random,  would  find  his 
own  ideas  and  creations  shamefully  travestied 
and  mutilated,  and  impudently  signed  with 
names  which  bore  no  resemblance  to  his 
own. 

These  underhand  thefts,  and  many  another 
mean  treachery,  poisoned  a  naturally  sincere 
and  simple  nature.  M.  G.  Guiches  has  very 
happily  reproduced  the  change  which  took 
place  in  the  poet's  heart,  actually  affecting 
even  his  physical  appearance,  in  a  remark- 
able study  of  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  published 
in  the  "  Nouvelle  Revue,"  May,  1890. 

"  When  he  at  last  became  aware  of  this 
pilfering,"  says  M.  Guiches,  "  when  he  under- 
stood the  interested  object  of  the  raptures 
which  used  to  encourage  his  ready  tongue, 
there  was  a  sudden  reaction  within  him.  His 
soul,  naturally  as  open  as  the  day,  shrank 
within  itself,  his  ingenuousness  intrenched 
itself  behind  a  distrust  as  excessive  as  his 
simplicity  had  once  been.  His  speech  grew 
hesitating,  shorn  of  its  former  frank  uncon- 
strainedness.  Sudden  flashes  of  suspicion  filled 


228         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

his  eyes  with  sudden  shyness.  His  hand  was 
no  longer  outstretched ;  it  waited  yours,  and 
was  only  offered  with  the  indolence  bred  of 
disenchantment." 

But  when  Villiers  was  far  from  the  boule- 
vard, far  from  professional  literary  men, — 
when  he  was  warmed  and  revived  in  an  atmo- 
sphere of  sincere  friendship  and  admiration, — 
he  became  himself  again,  and  his  dazzling 
gaiety  poured  itself  forth  in  all  sorts  of  un- 
expected conceits.  It  was  like  a  perpetual 
show  of  fireworks,  and  the  supply  of  squibs 
and  crackers,  Bengal  lights  and  Roman 
candles,  used  to  seem  inexhaustible. 

He  was  not  only  a  good  story-teller,  he 
could  mimic  like  a  great  and  original  actor, 
and  he  thus  gave  the  innumerable  personages 
created  by  his  imagination  an  air  of  genuine, 
if  often  fantastic  reality,  simulating,  as  he 
would,  their  looks  and  voices,  their  gestures 
and  their  attitudes.  Amongst  all  these  crea- 
tions, which  seem  as  if  they  belong  to  the 
dreams  of  Hoffman,  Edgar  Poe,  or  Dean 
Swift,  Villiers'  favourite  was  always  the  illus- 
trious Triboulat  Bonhomet,  "  the  son  of  little 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  229 

Dr.  Amour  Bonhomet,  who  had  adventures 
down  in  the  coal  mines." 

During  many  a  delightful  evening,  and  in 
the  course  of  those  long  midnight  rambles 
through  Paris  which  used  to  pass  so  quickly 
away  in  his  company,  I  have  witnessed  many 
of  the  metamorphoses  of  that  remarkable  and 
scientific  individual.  For  Bonhomet,  accord- 
ing to  his  creator's  notion,  was,  while  always 
continuing  the  archetype  of  his  century,  to 
be  reincarnated  in  every  position  a  man  could 
occupy.  He  was  to  be,  turn  about,  professor, 
minister  of  state,  police  agent,  philosopher, 
explorer,  and  lecturer.  I  remember  some  of 
these  transmigrations,  which  were  never  pub- 
lished, Villiers  having  been  prevented  by 
death  from  putting  them  into  circulation. 

First  of  all,  there  is  a  General  Bonhomet, 
commanding- in -chief,  who  harangues  his 
troops  before  the  battle.  He  points  out  to 
them  that  the  idea  of  glory  and  patriotism  is 
quite  out  of  date,  and  calls  upon  them  to  court 
death  in  defence  of  agriculture,  manufactures, 
and  commerce,  the  three  sources  of  the  pros- 
perity of  France.    "  Soldiers !  let  us  have  no 


23o         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

more  empty  enthusiasm  for  hollow  and  ex- 
ploded Utopias  !  Fight,  conquer,  and  die  for 
the  safety  of  our  railway  system  !  " 

Then,  as  a  pendant  to  Bonhomet  the  slayer 
of  swans,  there  was  Bonhomet  the  ermine- 
hunter,  who,  having  read  that  one  of  these 
immaculate  creatures  dies  as  soon  as  a  stain 
marks  its  snowy  whiteness,  hides  himself  with 
a  wonderful  silent  gun,  charged  with  ink,  and 
thus  exterminates  several  dozen  ! 

But  the  boldest  conception  of  all  is,  perhaps, 
Bonhomet  the  religious  man. 

After  a  visit  to  Patmos,  the  details  of  which 
beggar  all  description,  the  doctor  determines 
to  fulfil  the  letter  of  the  Scriptures,  "  that  there 
shall  not  remain  of  Jerusalem  one  stone  upon 
another."  And  having  observed,  as  he  passed 
through  the  holy  places,  that  arches,  walls,  and 
houses  were  still  standing,  he  returns  to  Jeru- 
salem, accompanied  by  a  contractor  and  an 
army  of  workmen,  to  accomplish  the  scriptural 
prophecy  to  the  letter,  and  leave  no  stone  upon 
its  neighbour !  I  must  not  bid  a  final  farewell 
to  the  doctor  without  detailing  an  authentic 
but  little  known  anecdote,  in  which  he  plays 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  231 

the  chief  part.  During  the  autumn  of  1879, 
Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam,  together  with  Judith 
Gautier,  Catulle  Mendes,  and  many  other 
musical  adepts,  had  gone  to  Bayreuth  to  see 
the  divine  Wagner,  and  assist  at  the  per- 
formance of  "Parsifal"  and  the  "  Nibe- 
lungenlied."  The  great  master,  who  was  all 
powerful  at  the  Bavarian  Court,  presented 
Villiers  to  the  king  and  his  august  guests, 
among  whom  was  that  Grand  Duke  who  is 
now  Czar  of  all  the  Russias.  Wagner  had 
talked  so  often  about  Triboulat  Bonhomet 
that,  willy  nilly,  the  poet  had  to  agree  to  give 
a  reading  from  his  works.  For  this  purpose 
the  whole  court  was  assembled. 

From  the  outset  there  was  a  murmur  of 
stifled  laughter  and  a  rustle  of  unfurling  fans. 
As  the  reading  proceeded,  the  gaiety  of  the 
audience  increased,  growing  quite  noisy,  and 
unchecked  by  the  presence  of  the  king,  who, 
for  that  matter,  laughed  louder  than  the  rest. 
Villiers  was  much  astonished,  and  a  little  un- 
easy even,  at  this  extraordinary  hilarity.  He 
knew  well  enough  that  his  Bonhomet  had  a 
very  comic  side,  but  he  never  expected  to 


232         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

raise  such  a  gust  of  merriment  among  per- 
sonages so  grave  and  important.  At  last  the 
tempest  of  laughter  rose  so  high  that  the 
reader  ceased  and  cast  a  glance,  full  of  vague 
suspicion,  round  his  audience.  The  Grand 
Duke  of  Saxe-Weimar,  who  sat  beside  him, 
touched  his  shoulder,  and  pointed  to  a  person 
sitting  just  opposite  them.  Villiers,  with  a 
little  sharp  cry,  dropped  the  manuscript  from 
his  trembling  fingers,  and  gave  evident  signs 
of  lively  terror.  There,  in  front  of  him,  sur- 
rounded by  a  bevy  of  beautiful  women,  gazing 
at  him  with  shining  eyes,  his  enormous  mouth 
open  in  stentorian  laughter,  his  huge  hands 
leading  the  applause,  was  Dr.  Triboulat  Bon- 
homet  himself,  in  flesh  and  bone  (principally 
bone  !).  It  was  Liszt !  From  the  very  first 
line  of  the  manuscript,  which  minutely  de- 
scribed the  doctor,  the  whole  audience  had 
been  struck  with  the  resemblance  between 
the  great  pianist  and  Triboulat  Bonhomet, 
and  as  the  description  went  on  the  likeness 
increased — dress,  gestures,  habits,  all  bore  a 
striking  similarity.  One  person  alone  did  not 
perceive  the  identity,  and  he  laughed  louder 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  233 

than  the  rest — Liszt  himself.  As  the  situation 
worked  itself  out,  the  fits  of  laughter  became 
almost  convulsing,  for  Villiers  read  on  with 
the  most  imperturbable  gravity.  After  this 
incident  quelgiornopiu  nonsi  leggemmoavante! 1 
I  have  spoken  but  little,  up  till  now,  of  the 
political  convictions  of  the  author  of  the 
"  Contes  Cruels."  The  truth  is,  that  though 
he  was  Royalist  by  racial  instinct  and  Catho- 
lic by  conviction,  he  considered  contemporary 
politics,  in  the  depth  of  his  heart,  as  a  low  and 
vulgar  science,  the  triumph  of  lying,  hypocrisy 
and  platitude,  and  an  end  unworthy  of  the  pur- 
suit of  minds  inspired  by  the  divine  breath. 
Nevertheless,  during  his  short  career  as  editor 
of  "  La  Croix  et  l'Epee,"  he  constituted  him- 
self the  champion  of  the  cause  of  the  Naun- 
dorffs.  I  fancy  that  the  strange  mystery 
which  even  now  surrounds  the  origin  of  his 
claim,  fired  the  poet's  imagination  more  than 
the  personal  qualities  of  the  starveling  pre- 
tender. 

He  remained  a  Naundorffist  even  after  he 

1  "That  day  no  further  leaf  we  did  uncover." — Inferno, 
canto  v. 


234         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

was  no  longer  at  the  head  of  the  newspaper, 
and  was  convinced  of  the  incontestability  of  the 
claims  of  the  future  Charles  XI.  to  the  throne 
of  France.  Let  no  one  hastily  conclude  that 
this  was  nothing  but  his  fancy.  More  serious 
persons  than  Villiers,  after  minute  research, 
have  shared  his  convictions  on  this  head. 
Jules  Favre,  who  defended  the  pretensions  of 
the  Naundorffs  before  the  French  tribunals, 
was  persuaded  of  the  rightfulness  of  his 
clients'  claim.  Since  that  time  much  evi- 
dence has  come  to  light,  the  authenticity  of 
which  it  would  be  hard  to  disprove,  showing 
that  at  all  events  Louis  XVII.  did  not  die 
in  the  Temple.  The  Comte  d'Herisson,  in  a 
curious  book  published  some  years  ago,  and 
called  "  Le  Cabinet  Noir,"  has  elucidated  all 
this  strange  affair  very  clearly,  and  a  perusal 
of  his  work,  supported  as  it  is  by  documentary 
evidence,  is  calculated  to  inspire  doubt  as  to 
the  rival  pretensions  of  the  two  branches  of 
the  Bourbon  family  in  the  most  incredulous 
and  sceptical  minds.1 

1  Since  the  publication  of  the  Comte  d'Herisson's  book, 
another  has  appeared  on  this  knotty  point,  "  L'Enfant  du 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  235 

However  that  may  be,  Villiers  was  still,  in 
1879,  an  enthusiastic  partisan  of  the  Naun- 
dorffs,  when  an  incident  which  took  place  that 
year  completely  separated  them. 

A  few  faithful  followers  of  the  monarch  in 
expectancy  had  joined  together  to  give  a 
dinner  in  his  honour.  Villiers  was  sitting, 
silent  and  absorbed,  on  the  prince's  right. 
Among  the  guests  was  the  old  Comte  de 

F  ,  who  for  forty  years  had  devoted 

everything — intellect,  energy,  time,  and  for- 
tune— to  the  welfare  and  success  of  him  whom 
he  looked  upon  as  his  legitimate  sovereign. 
The  august  guest  lost  his  temper  (on  what 
account  I  know  not)  with  his  old  and  faithful 
servant,  and,  before  all  the  assembled  com- 
pany, he  so  overwhelmed  him  with  reproaches 
and  abuse  that  the  poor  old  man  burst  into 
sobs.  A  stupor  of  indignant  astonishment 
fell  upon  the  little  gathering;  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  general  silence,  Villiers  rose, 

Temple,"  by  the  Baron  de  Gaugler,  published  by  Savine. 
An  authoritative  work,  proving  the  right  of  the  Naundorffs 
to  style  themselves  the  descendants  of  the  Dauphin  of 
France. 


236         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

glass  in  hand,  and  turned  towards  the  prince. 
"Sire!"  he  said,  "I  drink  your  majesty's 
health.  Your  claims  are  certainly  beyond 
dispute.  You  have  all  the  ingratitude  of  a 
king ! " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

Fragments  of  a  journal  kept  in  1879 — A  woman  of 
fashion  bewitched — Villiers  and  Mar'  Yvonne — A 
mystery — Villiers  a  candidate  at  the  elections  of 
the  Conseil  General — Opinions  of  the  press — 
Meetings — The  plans  of  the  future  councillor — 
My  departure  from  Paris — Our  separation — Descrip- 
tion of  Villiers  in  1880  by  G.  Guiches. 

UNTING  through  old  papers  for 
any  traces  I  might  possess  of  the 
dear  dead  friend  whose  life  I  am 
endeavouring  to  relate,  I  have 
come  across  several  sheets  of  notes,  written 
about  this  time,  towards  the  end  of  1879. 
This  journal  is  full  of  Villiers,  with  whom 
I  was  living  in  almost  daily  intercourse, 
and  though  it  may  be  devoid  of  any  other 
merit,  it  has  at  all  events  this  one,  that  it 
was  drawn  from  the  life,  and  that  it  faithfully 
reproduces  my  original  impressions.  From 


238         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

it,  therefore,  I  cull  the  story  of  one  of  the 
last  incidents  in  the  poet's  Parisian  life  of 
which  I  was  a  witness.  The  reader  will,  I 
am  sure,  forgive  my  endeavouring  to  vary 
the  monotony  of  my  tale  by  the  quotation  : 

"October,  1879.  Matthias  has  been  back 
from  Bayreuth  for  some  days,  and  gave  me 
only  yesterday  an  exemplification  of  the  extra- 
ordinary bewitching  power  of  his  conversa- 
tion over  every  human  being  who  hears  it. 
A  distant  relation  of  my  own,  young,  charm- 
ing, elegant,  and  deplorably  frivolous,  is  just 
now  passing  through  Paris.  She  has  come 
to  make  some  purchases,  to  buy  a  trousseau, 
and  I  really  believe  her  sole  mission  in  life 
is  to  match  ribbons  and  silks.  God  alone 
knows  what  is  inside  the  head  of  a  young 
and  fashionable  woman  coming  to  Paris,  with 
a  pocketful  of  money,  to  '  do  her  shopping  ! ' 
It  appears  to  me  that  nothing  exists  for  her 
beyond  shops,  milliners,  dressmakers,  lace 
vendors,  jewellers,  and  so  forth.  Yesterday, 

however,  Madame  de  X  was  good  enough 

to  come  to  my  house  to  rest  a  moment,  and 
talk  about  our   own  part  of  the  country. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  239 

But  she  had  shown  me  her  list  of  engage- 
ments, and  made  her  conditions  beforehand. 
Half  an  hour  by  the  clock,  neither  more  nor 
less,  she  was  to  spend  with  me.  Towards 
half-past  two,  that  is,  after  the  first  quarter 
of  an  hour,  in  came  Matthias,  with  whom  she 
had  not  been  previously  acquainted.  .  .  . 
Well !  when  Mar'  Yvonne,  my  Breton  servant, 
brought  in  the  lamp  at  six  o'clock,  my 
charming  cousin  was  still  sitting  on  the  sofa, 
gazing  admiringly  at  Villiers,  who,  standing 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  was  demonstrating 
to  her,  with  unutterably  comic  gestures,  how 
the  King  of  Bavaria  valsed!  Who  can  tell 
how  the  miracle  was  accomplished  ?  These 
performances  of  his  beggar  all  description ; 
they  must  be  seen  to  be  realized.  During 
yesterday  afternoon  Villiers  played  the  piano, 
sang,  and  acted  through  the  whole  of  the  Nibe- 
lungen  trilogy,  interspersing  his  performance 
with  queer  stories,  vile  puns,  astonishing 
reflections,  and  bitter  jests.  He  imitated  one 
after  the  other,  and  with  astonishing  power, 
all  the  august,  illustrious,  and  crackbrained 
people  he  had  met  at  Bayreuth,  from  the 


240         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

king  and  the  princesses  down  to  the  crazy- 
looking  musical  professors  from  the  German 
universities.  He  gave  us  a  magnificent 
description  of  the  way  in  which  the  impetuous 
and  tyrannical  maestro,  Wagner,  ruled  the 
little  court  with  his  iron  rod,  and  lorded  it 
over  the  king  just  as  an  usher  in  a  school 
will  lord  it  over  a  lower  boy.  He  was,  in 
short,  as  he  can  be  now  and  then,  inimitable 
and  irresistible.  '  Yes/  my  young  relative 
said,  '  I  am  furious  and  delighted  too !  I 
never  was  so  much  entertained  in  all  my 
life  !  He  is  more  amusing  than  all  the  Paris 
theatres  put  together.' 

"  When  I  came  back  I  found  him  disputing 
with  Mar'  Yvonne  in  my  bedroom.  He  was 
turning  over  the  contents  of  my  wardrobe, 
to  choose  himself  some  white  cravats.  '  Ah, 
these  are  what  I  want,'  he  said ;  i  serious 
ties,  very  serious  ties,  most  serious  ties  ! '  He 
wrapped  three  up  in  an  old  newspaper,  and 
was  going  away  without  speaking  to  me  after 
a  hearty  silent  handshake.  I  tried  to  ques- 
tion him.  '  Hush  ! — a  mystery  ! — of  capi- 
tal importance !  you  shall  know  all  about 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  241 

it  by-and-by ! '  and  he  went  off  bursting  with 
laughter.  There  was  an  alarming  look  in 
his  eyes  which  made  me  suspect  some  terrible 
humbug.  I  cross-questioned  Mar  Yvonne. 
She  said :  '  I  am  sure,  sir,  that  Monsieur 
Matthias  is  plotting  something.  He  has 
brought  me  two  shirts  to  iron,  and  he 
said  to  me,  "  You  understand,  Mar'  Yvonne, 
that  they  must  be  shiny — as  shiny  as  the 
inside  of  your  saucepans ! "  What  can  it  all 
mean  ?    Has  he  any  matrimonial  projects  ? ' 

"  November,  1879.  There  were  no  matri- 
monial plans,  and  Villiers'  new  mad  project 
surpasses  for  comicality  the  best  conception 
of  the  immortal  Labiche.  He  has  offered 
himself  as  a  candidate  in  the  1 7th  Arrondisse- 
ment  at  the  elections  to  the  Conseil  General 
of  the  Seine,  which  are  to  take  place  on 
the  10th  of  next  January !  Nor  is  this  all ! 
the  progenitor  of  Bonhomet  is  supported  by 
the  Royalist  committee  in  Paris,  which  intro- 
duces him,  patronizes  him,  and  pays  all  his 
electioneering  expenses.  It  seems  utterly 
improbable,  and  still  it  is  absolutely  true. 
He  has  bewitched  the  most  solemn  per- 
il 


242         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

sonages,  captivated  the  stiffest  dowagers,  and 
gained  the  enthusiastic  support  of  the  clergy 
of  his  parish.  Those  shirts  and  cravats  were 
for  his  meetings,  of  which  it  appears  he  has 
already  held  two,  both  brilliantly  successful. 

"  His  adversary  is  the  redoubtable  negro, 
Heredia,  a  red  Republican  for  all  his  black 
skin.  All  the  newspapers  to-day  are  talking 
of  this  unexpected  candidature,  and  laughing 
at  it.  The  '  Figaro '  is,  as  always,  sym- 
pathetic to  Villiers,  but  it  looks  upon  the 
whole  thing  as  somewhat  of  a  poetic  fancy. 
Some  old  Royalist  papers,  however,  such  as 
the  'Gazette  de  France,'  support  the  claims 
of  the  great  writer  with  many  laudatory 
phrases.  This  very  day  I  have  had  a  long 
talk  with  my  cousin  about  the  whole  busi- 
ness, and  I  have  convinced  myself  that,  in 
spite  of  pleasantries  and  banter,  he  does  not 
at  heart  look  upon  it  as  at  all  a  matter  of 
humbug.  I  am  certain  he  has  a  secret  hope 
and  desire  of  success.  How  full  of  contra- 
diction is  the  human  breast !  This  admirable 
poet,  this  artist  par  excellence,  has  just  let 
fall  to  me  this  phrase,  incomprehensible  as 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  243 

coming  from  his  lips :  '  After  all,  I  hold 
Bulwer's  opinion  that  the  really  successful 
man  should  begin  by  literature,  go  on  to 
public  life,  and  end  in  office.'  Fortunately 
this  is  but  a  dream  of  ambition  flitting  across 
his  mighty  brain,  and  he  will  soon  laugh  at 
it  himself.  He  has,  moreover,  no  chance 
of  being  elected,  whatever  his  illusions  may 
be.  He  told  me  himself  that  he  had  some- 
what alarmed  some  worthy  delegates  who 
interviewed  him,  by  stating  that,  if  he  was 
honoured  by  election,  he  should  demand, 
from  the  aesthetic  point  of  view,  the  demo- 
lition of  several  monuments,  such  as  the 
Opera  House,  the  Church  of  St.  Sulpice,  and 
the  Pantheon.  And  he  also  desires,  with  the 
object  of  providing  a  refuge  for  literary  men, 
to  obtain  the  re-establishment  of  the  Debtors' 
Prison!" 

Let  me  add  to  these  fragments  of  per- 
sonal notes  the  following  passage  extracted 
from  an  article  I  have  already  mentioned, 
and  which  was  dedicated  by  Villiers  de  l'lsle 
Adam  to  the  glory  of  Mdlle.  Augusta 
Holmes. 


244         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

"  I  had  been  chosen  as  the  candidate  of 
the  Royalist  committee  at  the  elections  for 
the  Conseil  General  of  Paris,  on  the  ioth  of 
January,  1880.  If  my  memory  serves  me, 
my  candidature  was  for  the  17th  Arrondisse- 
ment,  in  opposition  to  that  redoubtable  revo- 
lutionist, M.  de  Her6dia.  It  may  be  added, 
by  the  way,  that  the  results  of  these  elections, 
within  five-and-twenty  votes,  being  nowa- 
days perfectly  well  known  beforehand,  I  had 
accepted  the  nomination  solely  for  the  sake 
of  the  honour  of  being  beaten. 

"  I  obtained,  as  I  expected,  the  suffrages 
of  six  hundred  electors ;  my  worthy  anta- 
gonist (whose  touching  fugitive  poetry  the 
'  Figaro '  was  then  publishing)  obtained  the 
resulting  majority  of  a  thousand  or  twelve 
hundred  votes  to  which  he  owes  his  triumph  ; 
and  thus  both  men  of  letters  were  content. 

"  But  with  regard  to  what  concerns  us  just 
now,  the  amusing  part  of  the  business  is  this  : 
At  that  time  the  project  of  an  Academy  of 
Lyric  Composition  for  the  town  of  Paris  was 
already  much  discussed,  and  one  evening 
before  the  great  day  I  declared  at  a  party, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  245 

before  two  of  the  most  matter-of-fact  and 
red  Republican  of  the  councillors,  that  if, 
contrary  to  all  expectation  (for  after  all  the 
election  has  its  whims),  I  was  successful  in 
this  venture,  my  first  care,  when  the  proper 
moment  arrived,  would  be  to  point  out  to 
the  commission  the  practical  competence  and 
usefulness  of  the  eminent  composer  as  a  pos- 
sible member  of  the  official  jury  of  this  body. 
Then,  with  that  gentle  and  self-satisfied  smile 
which  is  so  eminently  characteristic  of  such 
individuals,  those  two  guileless  ones  called 
me  a  poet  (which  always  entertains  me),  and 
dismissed  my  project;  to  the  limbo  of  space. 
So  I  dubbed  them  prosy,  in  order  to  gratify 
their  little  vanity,  and  I  was  not  at  all  sur- 
prised to  hear  that  it  was  those  two  members 
who,  if  report  speaks  truly,  influenced  the 
commission  the  next  year  in  favour  of  the 
musician,  and  had  her  placed  upon  the  jury 
by  an  enthusiastic  majority.  What  poets 
our  municipal  councillors  are !  " 

I  did  not  see  the  end  of  this  wonderful 
adventure.  Important  family  events  called 
me  back  into  Brittany,  at  the  end  of  1879,  as 


246         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

I  then  thought  for  a  short  visit ;  but  providence 
ruled  otherwise,  and  I  have  never  been  in 
Paris  since,  except  as  a  casual  visitor. 

Thenceforward,  in  spite  of  my  deep  affec- 
tion for  Villiers,  and  our  years  of  close  inti- 
macy, I  only  held  rare  communication  with 
him,  with  here  and  there  a  hasty  meeting 
rarer  still.  Does  this  imply  that  he  was  faith- 
less-hearted ?  No,  indeed  !  He  had,  on  the 
contrary,  what  is  popularly  called  a  heart  of 
gold.  But  in  order  to  demonstrate  his  affec- 
tion to  you,  he  needed  your  bodily  presence. 
He  lived  so  much  in  the  far-away  land  of 
dreams,  that  if  you  did  not  remind  him  con- 
stantly and  tangibly  of  your  existence,  you 
came  little  by  little  to  hold  a  vague  and 
shadowy  place  in  his  mind,  like  the  sweet 
and  far-off  memory  of  some  loved  and  long- 
lost  friend.  And  this  was  my  fate.  New 
elements,  too,  and  more  intimate  affections, 
entered  into  his  life ;  his  increasing  literary 
reputation  brought  him  new  friendships  and 
new  admirers,  and  forced  him  into  more 
regular  and  constant  literary  production.  His 
last  years  were  certainly  his  fullest.  Then 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  247 

came  sickness,  the  hospital  ward,  and  death, 
without,  alas !  our  having  met  again  and  re- 
knitted  the  strands  of  our  old  friendship. 
What  matter !  my  faith  is  his — that  if  life 
is  hard,  it  is  at  all  events  short — and  soon  we 
shall  meet  again ! 

Here  then  end  my  personal  reminiscences. 
I  owe  my  ability  to  add  in  one  last  chapter 
some  details  of  the  poet's  later  life  to  the  nu- 
merous articles  concerning  him  published  im- 
mediately after  his  death.  Amidst  these 
articles,  filled,  many  of  them,  with  inaccuracies 
and  absurd  apocryphal  stories,  there  is  one 
which  should  fix  the  attention  of  all  artists. 
It  was  published  by  M.  G.  Guiches  in  the 
"  Nouvelle  Revue,"  and  has  already  been 
often  referred  to  in  the  pages  of  this  book. 
The  young  and  subtle  author  (whose  psycho- 
logical researches  have  not  withered  up  his 
heart)  has  succeeded  perfectly  in  fathoming  the 
hidden  depths  of  the  nature  of  the  author  of 
"  Axel."  He  has  shown  in  a  strikingly  true 
and  touching  way  the  slow  metamorphosis  of 
that  ingenuous  nature,  in  the  midst  of  the  hypo- 
crisies, the  cruelties,  and  the  villainies  of  life, 


248         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

and  he  has  given  the  most  admirable  and 
speaking  word-portrait  of  the  poet  that  I  am 
acquainted  with.  I  reproduce  it  here.  When 
the  reader  has  perused  it,  let  him  turn  back  to 
the  picture  at  the  beginning  of  this  volume, 
and  the  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  of  1880, 
resuscitated  by  the  magic  of  the  pen  and  the 
art  of  the  gravers  tool,  will  appear  lifelike 
before  him.  "  He  would  raise  his  head, 
proudly  tossing  back  his  hair  with  a  noble 
gesture,  and  you  saw  his  face  in  all  its  in- 
tellectual beauty.  The  broad  forehead,  lined 
with  parallel  wrinkles,  proclaimed  the  supreme 
harmony  of  the  mental  powers  which  had  ex- 
panded it,  as  it  were,  into  a  superb  page  in  the 
book  of  art.  The  deep  depressions  on  the 
temples  denoted  the  mathematical  aptitude  of 
which  he  so  often  gave  proof.  The  light  blue 
eyes  bore  all  the  external  characteristics 
which  betoken  the  possession  of  exceptional 
powers  of  memory,  and  the  prominent  eye- 
balls, swimming  in  the  light  of  his  mystic 
visions,  or  dimmed  with  the  tears  which  any 
religious  emotion  or  deep  artistic  feeling  would 
bring  to  them,  made  his  glance  strangely 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  249 

luminous.  All  the  life  of  the  countenance  had 
gathered  towards  and  remained  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  face — the  lower  part  was  so  reduced 
that  it  seemed  to  disappear.  The  animal  or 
sensual  characteristics  of  the  face  were  ren- 
dered invisible  by  the  facl:  that  the  swelling 
contour  of  the  cheeks  concealed  the  angle  of 
the  jawbones,  while  the  chin,  hidden  under  a 
Louis  XIII.  beard,  betrayed  by  its  smallness 
his  want  of  decision  in  practical  matters.  The 
slight  moustache,  often  twisted  up  a  la  mous- 
quetaire,  was  out  of  harmony  with  the  expres- 
sion of  the  mouth,  full  of  the  anxiety  of  a 
dreamer  who  scents  danger  from  afar,  pursued 
into  the  excesses  of  his  dream  by  the  torments 
of  daily  life,  and  tasting,  even  yet,  the  bitter- 
ness and  painful  humiliation  of  the  solicitations 
which  necessity  had  driven  him  to  utter. 

"  From  that  mouth  issued  strange  laugh- 
ter, sometimes  ingenuous,  long  and  hearty, — 
sometimes  short  and  jerky, — sometimes  low, 
yet  shrill,  like  the  laughter  of  some  old 
savant,  half-mad  with  learning,  when  he 
discovers  the  precious  meaning  of  some 
ancient  inscription,  or,  again,  like  the  diabolic 


250         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

gaiety  of  those  old  gnomes  who  are  described 
in  ancient  German  books  as  inhabiting  the 
moss-grown  belfry  towers  of  the  Father- 
land." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


Closing  years — Birth  of  a  son — Villiers'  widow — Little 
Totor  and  his  father — Success  of  the  "Contes 
Cruels" — Appearance  of  "L'Eve  Future"  in  the 
•  "  Gaulois  "—The  "  Vie  Moderne  "—The  murderous 
treatment  of  the  "Nouveau  Monde"  at  the  Theatre 
des  Nations — The  deaths  of  the  marquis  and  the  mar- 
quise— J.  K.  Huysmans — "  ARebours" — His  opinion 
of  Villiers'  work — "  Triboulat  Bonhomet " — "  Propos 
d'au-dela  " — "  Akedysseril " — '  '  L' Amour  Supreme  " 
— "L'Eve  Future  " — Lectures  in  Belgium — Return  to 
Paris — Prosperity — "  Histoires  Insolites  " — "  Nou- 
veaux  Contes  Cruels" — "Axel" — Sickness — Letter 
from  J.  K,  Huysmans,  detailing  the  last  moments 
and  the  death  of  Villiers — Conclusion. 

HE  most  important  event  in  this 
part  of  Villiers'  life  is  obviously 
the  birth  of  his  son.    The  entrance 
into  his  dreary  existence  of  this 
child,  upon  whom  he  could  pour  out  all  the 


252         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  , 

tenderness  of  his  heart,  till  now  jealously 
treasured  up,  gave  fresh  energy  and  buoyancy 
to  the  great  and  unhappy  poet,  who  had  ima- 
gined that  all  earthly  happiness  was  ended  for 
him.  It  is  worthy  of  remark  how  much 
Villiers'  literary  fertility  gained  in  amount  and 
in  regularity  from  this  time.  Doubtless  his 
paternal  responsibilities  obliged  him  for  the 
first  time  to  face  the  realities  of  life  in  a 
practical  fashion. 

I  never  was  acquainted  with  the  person 
who  now  bears  the  brilliant,  if  burdensome, 
name  of  Villiers  de  Flsle  Adam.  I  know 
that  she  was  without  any  education,  of  the 
humblest  extraction,  and  I  am  aware  that  the 
liaison  gave  rise  to  much  calumny  on  the  part 
of  the  poet's  enemies,  and  much  sadness  and 
astonishment  on  that  of  his  friends.  But  I 
know,  also,  that  for  ten  years  that  woman  was 
the  brave  and  faithful  companion  of  the  great 
artist ;  that  she  softened  the  closing  bitterness 
of  his  life  by  her  affection  and  devotion  ; 
that  she  shared  his  poverty,  nursed  him  in 
sickness,  and  that  in  bearing  him  a  son  she 
gave  him  the  one  pure  happiness  that  he  ever 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  253 

knew  in  this  world.  And  I  know,  lastly,  that 
Villiers  de  Flsle  Adam,  lying  on  his  deathbed, 
on  the  very  brink  of  eternity,  did  not  think 
this  humble  companion  unworthy  of  that 
supreme  aci  of  self-sacrifice  by  which  he  gave 
her  the  right  to  bear  his  name  before  God 
and  men.  For  all  these  reasons,  the  widow 
of  Villiers  has  a  right  to  the  deference  of  all 
admirers  and  friends  of  her  late  husband,  and 
I  believe  I  shall  best  show  mine  by  wrapping 
the  story  of  this  liaison,  which  after  all  con- 
cerns nobody  but  the  actors  in  it,  in  respectful 
silence. 

As  soon  as  little  Victor  ("  Totor,"  as  he 
was  called  in  the  intimacy  of  his  family  circle) 
had  left  his  first  baby  lispings  behind  him,  and 
was  able  to  toddle  a  little,  he  became  the  con- 
stant companion  of  his  fathers  walks.  In  the 
daytime  one  was  seldom  to  be  met  without  the 
other,  and  there  used  to  be  something  at  once 
comic  and  touching  in  Villiers'  delight,  asto- 
nishment, and  admiration  over  the  prattlings  of 
his  little  son. 

The  "Contes  Cruels,"  published  by  Calmann 
Levy,  appeared  in  1881,  and  in  spite  of  the  in- 


254         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

difference  of  the  Parisian  public  to  all  really 
artistic  work,  the  book  was  too  powerful  and 
too  original  not  to  create  a  certain  amount  of 
sensation.  Some  of  the  chief  critics  scornfully 
gave  the  work  a  few  laudatory  sentences,  and 
straightway  the  press  followed  like  a  flock  of 
sheep.  So  great  is  the  power  of  journalism 
that  a  few  weeks  made  Villiers  famous.  He 
took  advantage  of  this  revival  of  popularity  to 
place  his  copy  in  various  papers  and  magazines, 
and  thus  earn  a  little  money.  Meanwhile 
"  L'Eve  Future"  was  nearly  finished.  Some 
of  his  friends,  knowing  the  writer's  difficulties, 
proposed  to  occupy  themselves  with  the  en- 
deavour to  get  this,  the  crowning  effort  of  his 
literary  life,  published  as  a  serial.  Although 
the  idea  of  seeing  his  work  cut  up  and  served 
to  the  public  in  daily  slices  made  Villiers 
shiver  with  horror,  he  accepted,  driven  by 
hard  necessity.  It  was  the  "  Gaulois  "  which 
had  the  idea  of  offering  the  profound  and 
startling  work  of  the  gifted  writer  as  intellec- 
tual food  to  its  readers — all  of  them  habitual 
admirers  of  Ohnet,  Tarbe,  and  Montepin. 
The  issue  had  to  be  stopped  at  the  tenth 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  255 

number,  for  the  middle-class  public  left  off 
subscribing  in  swarms.  The  disappointment 
was  not  great  to  Villiers,  who  had  always 
looked  upon  the  appearance  of  "  L'Eve  Fu- 
ture "  in  the  serial  columns  of  the  "  Gaulois  " 
as  a  sort  of  gigantic  joke.  It  was  not  till  two 
years  later  (in  1884)  that  his  book  found  a 
setting  worthy  of  it  in  the  beautiful  and  luxu- 
riously got-up  review,  "  La  Vie  Moderne," 
then  published  by  Charpentier.  Villiers  even- 
tually became  one  of  the  most  assiduous  contri- 
butors to  this  truly  artistic  publication. 

I  will  only  mention  in  the  most  summary 
manner  the  ridiculous  performance  of  the 
"  Nouveau  Monde,"  which  took  place  at  the 
Theatre  des  Nations  in  1883.  There  is  no  use 
now  in  raking  up  old  quarrels  ;  but  Villiers 
was  cruelly  played  upon  and  shamefully  de- 
ceived on  that  occasion.  He  ought  never  to 
have  allowed  his  play  to  see  the  footlights 
under  conditions  which  made  its  failure  a 
foregone  conclusion.  I  was  not  present  on  the 
opening  night.  There  were  six  performances. 
Mdlle.  Rousseil  was  simply  grotesque,  and  I 
have  been  assured  that  she  acted  badly  on 


256         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

purpose.  One  of  my  brothers  was  present, 
one  evening,  at  the  massacre,  and  he  told  me 
that  the  hubbub  in  the  auditorium  was  deafen- 
ing. Villiers  led  the  clamour,  armed  with  ahuge 
key,  on  which  he  whistled  noisy  Tyrolean  airs. 
This  remarkable  historical  drama,  perhaps  the 
finest  ever  written  on  that  particular  subject, 
still  awaits  the  good  pleasure  of  some  intelli- 
gent and  artistic  manager.  But  I  hardly  know 
whether  that  rare  bird  exists  in  France. 

A  cruel  and  twofold  separation,  rendered, 
however,  less  cruel  by  his  strong  religious 
faith,  was  reserved  to  Villiers  in  the  end  of 
1883.  The  two  lights  which  had  for  so 
many  years  cast  a  ray  of  warm  affection  over 
his  otherwise  dreary  life,  went  out,  almost 
suddenly,  one  after  the  other.  The  marquise 
and  the  marquis  died  quietly  at  a  few  months' 
interval  in  their  little  dwelling  in  the  Avenue 
Malakoff.  Life  had  not  been  unfriendly  to 
them  on  the  whole.  The  marquis  till  his 
last  hour  lived  in  his  brilliant  dreams,  deaf 
and  blind  to  all  reality,  seeing  each  day  in 
some  fascinating  mirage  the  fortune  and  the 
glory  he  was  to  attain — the  next! 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  257 

The  illusions  of  the  marquise  were  more 
silent  and  tenderer,  all  concentrated  as  they 
were  on  her  Matthias.  In  her  day-dreams 
she  saw  him  crowned  with  an  aureole  of 
glory,  and  the  plaudits  of  the  newspapers 
(their  dagger-thrusts  were  always  concealed 
from  her  by  his  filial  tenderness)  beguiled  till 
its  last  throb  that  heart  so  absorbed  by 
maternal  love.  Poor  Villiers  wept  sorely, 
prayed  devoutly  at  the  bedside  of  his  dead 
parents,  spent  all  the  money  he  possessed 
(not  much,  poor  fellow!),  in  having  them 
fittingly  buried,  and  then  went  back  with 
a  burst  of  passionate  tenderness  to  his  little 
"  Totor." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  he  gave  up 
living  in  furnished  lodgings,  having  inherited 
from  the  old  couple  their  simple  furniture, 
amongst  which  survived  one  or  two  rem- 
nants of  former  grandeur,  a  grand  piano  by 
Pape,  and  a  Louis  XV.  table  with  fine 
copper  mounts. 

Providence  owed  Villiers  some  compen- 
sation for  such  bitter  sorrows,  borne  with  so 
much  Christian  resignation ;  and  if  the  void 

s 


258         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

caused  by  the  loss  of  his  parents  was  never 
entirely  filled,  yet  some  strong  and  con- 
siderate friendships,  which  surrounded  him 
even  on  his  deathbed,  did  much  to  lessen  it. 
Among  these  friends,  none  was  more  useful 
and  more  congenial  to  him  than  M.  J.  K. 
Huysmans.  Until  the  year  1884,  the  two 
writers  had  frequently  met  at  close  quarters 
without  making  acquaintance.  Each  was 
afraid  of  the  other's  exterior,  and  neither 
realized  their  great  psychological  and  in- 
tellectual resemblance.  This  resemblance 
was,  however,  not  identical.  For  while  Vil- 
liers  allowed  his  dreams  to  eddy  at  the  mercy 
of  contrary  winds  across  the  broad  sphere  of 
speculative  thought,  Huysmans,  more  master 
of  his  own  thoughts,  and  holding  the  reins 
of  his  imagination  even  in  its  wildest  flights, 
condensed  his  into  one  of  the  strongest, 
most  original,  best  conceived  and  best  exe- 
cuted books  of  modern  times.  I  allude  to 
"A  Rebours." 

Knowing  as  I  did  the  innermost  depths 
of  Villiers'  nature,  I  can  imagine,  judging 
from    my  own   sensations,  what  exquisite 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  259 

plsasure  the  perusal  of  this  fascinating  book 
must  have  given  him.  I  can  see  his  blue 
eyes  fill  with  tears  as  he  turns  over  those 
pages  instincl:  with  living  and  immortal  art. 
Such  emotions  are  amongst  the  noblest  and 
most  beautiful  in  life !  But  that  which  must 
have  specially  touched  Villiers  is  that  the 
accomplished  writer  had  devoted  an  impor- 
tant passage  in  his  book  to  the  author  of 
"  L'Eve  Future."  I  reproduce  here,  shorten- 
ing it  a  little,  Huysmans'  opinion  of  the 
works  of  Villiers  de  Flsle  Adam.  But  I 
should  state  that  it  was  formed  before  the 
publication  of  his  two  masterpieces,  "  L'Eve 
Future  "  and  "  Axel." 

"He  then  turned  his  attention  to  Villiers 
de  Tlsle  Adam,  in  whose  scattered  works  he 
still  noted  some  seditious  passages,  and  in 
which  some  thrills  of  morbid  emotion  still 
vibrated,  but  which,  with  the  exception  at 
least  of  '*  Claire  Lenoir/  no  longer  shed  such 
an  overwhelming  sense  of  horror  on  the 
reader.  This  last  story  was  evidently  in- 
spired by  those  of  Edgar  Poe,  whose  love  of 
close  discussion  and  taste  for  the  horrible  it 


26o         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 


reproduces.  The  same  might  be  said  of 
'  L'lntersigne,'  which  was  later  on  inserted 
in  the  '  Contes  Cruels,'  a  collection  of  tales  of 
indisputable  talent,  amongst  which  was  one, 
'  Vera/  which  Des  Esseintes  [the  hero  of 
Huysmans'  book]  looked  upon  as  a  master- 
piece in  miniature.  In  this  last  the  fanciful- 
ness  of  the  story  is  full  of  an  exquisite 
tenderness.  We  no  longer  have  the  gloomy 
phantoms  of  the  American  author,  but  a 
warm,  translucent,  almost  celestial  vision,  the 
opposite,  though  in  an  identical  style,  of 
Beatrice  and  Ligeia,  those  pallid  spectres 
raised  by  the  inexorable  nightmare  of  the 
opium-eater.  This  story  also  treats  of  the 
operation  of  the  human  will,  but  not  as 
to  its  weaknesses  and  failures,  under  the 
influence  of  terror.  It  studies,  on  the  con- 
trary, its  excitement  under  the  impulse  of  a 
conviction,  developing  into  a  fixed  idea,  and 
demonstrates  that  power  which  succeeds  even 
in  pervading  the  very  atmosphere,  and  im- 
posing its  will  on  intangible  things." 

"  But,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  there  exists 
another  side  in  the  temperament  of  Villiers, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  261 

far  more  keen  and  clearly-defined — a  side 
of  gloomy  jesting  and  cruel  raillery.  This 
gives  rise,  not  to  the  paradoxical  mystifi- 
cations of  Edgar  Allan  Poe,  but  to  that  sad 
banter  of  the  heavy-hearted  jester  in  which 
Swift  revelled. 

"  One  series  of  short  pieces,  '  Les  Demoi- 
selles de  Bienfilatre/  '  L'Affichage  Celeste,' 
1  La  Machine  a.  Gloire,'  '  Le  plus  beau  diner 
du  monde,'  reveal  a  power  of  banter  of  a 
singularly  bitter  and  inventive  order.  All 
the  impurity  of  Contemporary  utilitarianism, 
all  the  ignominy  of  the  century,  are  glorified 
in  these  works,  whose  pungent  irony  so  de- 
lighted Des  Esseintes." 

A  little  further  on,  in  an  anthology  which 
Des  Esseintes  has  had  printed  for  his  own 
use — "  a  little  chapel  with  Baudelaire  as  its 
patron  saint" — we  find  the  "  Vox  Populi"  of 
Villiers  :  "  A  superb  coin,  struck  in  a  golden 
mould,  with  the  effigies  of  Leconte  de  L'Isle 
and  of  Flaubert." 

This  great  book,  "  A  Rebours,"  was  the 
bond  which  united  Huysmans  to  Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam  in  what  was  to  prove  a  lasting 


262         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

friendship,  the  tender  consideration  and 
manly  affection  of  which  was  most  beneficial 
to  the  latter,  softening  to  him  many  a  blow, 
many  a  bitterness,  and  many  a  humiliation. 

If  he  had  lived  long  enough  it  might  have 
given  him  a  taste  for  a  regular,  sober,  retired 
and  studious  existence,  and  have  drawn  him 
away  by  degrees  from  the  terrible  manner  of 
life  which  ended  by  consuming  his  strength. 
But  it  was  too  late.  By  the  time  Huysmans 
knew  him,  death  had  marked  him  for  his 
own  ! 

Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam  produced  a  great 
deal  between  the  publication  of  the  "  Nouveau 
Monde"  and  that  of  "  L'Eve  Future"  (1883 
to  1886).  First  of  all  came  "  Triboulat  Bon- 
homet,"  the  first  volume  of  a  long  series  he 
projected,  which  was  to  relate  with  minute 
detail  all  the  adventures  and  discoveries 
of  the  worthy  doctor.  This  is  how  the 
author  expresses  himself  on  the  subject 
in  the  preface  placed  at  the  head  of  this 
work  : 

"We  first  of  all,  in  order  to  initiate  the 
public  into  the  character  of  Doctor  Bonhomet, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  263 

give  three  tales  which  illustrate  in  a  general 
manner  his  individual  peculiarities. 

"  Next,  the  doctor  himself  takes  up  his 
parable  and  tells  us  the  more  than  strange 
story  of  ' Claire  Lenoir,'  the  heavy  responsi- 
bility for  which  we  leave  entirely  on  his 
shoulders.  If,  as  we  have  some  reason  to 
fear,  this  personage,  whose  actual  existence 
is  incontestable,  obtains  some  popularity,  we 
shall  soon  publish,  not  without  regret,  certain 
anecdotes  of  which  he  is  the  hero,  and  certain 
aphorisms  of  which  he  is  the  author." 

This  volume,  besides  "  Claire  Lenoir,"  con- 
tains the  admirable  ironical  allegory  of  Bon- 
homet  the  swan-hunter,  "  The  Paper  of  Dr. 
Triboulat  Bonhomet  on  the  '  Utilization  of 
Earthquakes,' "  and  the  "  Banquet  of  the 
Eventualists." 

"Triboulat  Bonhomet"  was  followed  by 
"  Propos  d'au-dela"  (1  vol.,  published  by 
Brunhoff),  and  the  superb  prose  poem, 
"  Akedysseril,"  which  reproduces  in  realistic 
fashion  the  dazzlingly  splendid  visions  of  the 
East  Indies.  Then,  almost  simultaneously 
with  "  L'Eve  Future,"  another  dreamy  work, 


264         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

full  of  dignity  and  sadness,  "  L' Amour  Su- 
preme," appeared  at  the  same  publishers, 
and,  in  1886,  "  L'Eve  Future"  in  its  final 
form  appeared  in  the  booksellers'  shop-fronts 
garbed  in  a  whimsical  covering.  Villiers 
gave  the  key  to  this  book  when  he  dedicated 
it  "  To  dreamers  and  to  scoffers.''  Its  pages 
are  indeed  the  lists  in  which  those  two  cham- 
pions, fancy  and  irony,  struggle  eternally 
together  without  either  coming  out  the  victor. 
The  author  wrote  for  this  book,  the  most  im- 
portant work  of  his  literary  life,  a  long  preface, 
the  first  part  of  which  only  was  published  at 
the  beginning  of  the  volume.  M.  G.  Guiches, 
in  the  remarkable  study  from  which  I  have 
already  frequently  quoted  in  the  course  of  this 
work,  has  reproduced  the  original  text  in  its 
entirety.  I  will  only  cite  the  following  frag- 
ment :  "I  know  no  precedent  for  my  book, 
none  like  it,  nor  analogous  to  it.  Whether 
it  arouses  anger  or  merely  meets  with  indiffe- 
rence, I  do  not  think  it  will  be  utterly  for- 
gotten, for  in  truth  its  gloomy  pages  do  not 
treat  of  the  famous  1  De  omni  re  scibile,'  but 
rather  of  the  1  et  quibusdam  aliis.' " 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  265 

The  appearance  of  "  L'Eve  Future"  caused 
a  sort  of  stupor  of  astonishment  amongst  the 
ranks  of  the  critics.  These  gentlemen  really 
did  not  know  what  to  say  to  it.  It  was  not 
like  anything  that  was  generally  written, 
and,  besides,  Villiers'  reputation  made  them 
fear  some  mystification.  Yet  it  was  impos- 
sible to  deny  that  this  one  book  contained 
more  imagination,  more  scientific  knowledge, 
and  more  art  than  all  the  other  works  appear- 
ing at  the  same  time  put  together.  The  re- 
viewers, to  get  out  of  their  difficulty,  launched 
into  vague  praises  or  puerile  jests,  diluted 
with  sugary  compliments,  and  all  of  them, 
without  much  understanding  it,  acclaimed 
the  ''incontestable  intellectual  superiority  of 
this  original  conception." 

Villiers  was  forthwith  consecrated  a  great 
writer,  his  renown  crossed  the  Channel,  and 
penetrated  across  the  frontier,  causing  much 
preoccupation  in  Belgium,  that  literature- 
loving  country,  always  on  the  watch  for  what- 
ever succeeds  in  France.  The  following 
year  an  association  for  providing  courses  of 
lectures  on  different  subjects,  having  its  head- 


266         VILLIERS  DE  LISLE  ADAM. 


quarters  at  Brussels,  made  lucrative  offers  to 
the  author  of  "  L'Eve  Future."  Villiers, 
although  he  was  already  sorely  stricken  by 
the  malady  which  was  eventually  to  carry 
him  off,  gladly  accepted  this  opportunity  of 
publicly  enunciating  his  ideas  on  men  and 
art.  He  started,  and  had  not  occasion,  like 
Baudelaire,  to  complain  of  his  reception  by 
the  worthy  Belgians.  His  success  was  very 
great.  Some  hasty  notes,  written  by  him  to 
a  friend,  and  published  by  M.  Guiches  in  the 
"  Nouvelle  Revue/'  enable  us  to  follow  the 
course  of  his  triumphs.  I  reproduce  them 
here.  I  should  add,  to  make  matters  clear, 
that  Villiers  had  left  Paris  just  at  the  moment 
that  a  new  collection  of  his  tales,  "  Les  His- 
toires  Insolites,"  was  about  to  appear  at 
Quantin's. 

"  My  dear  M  , 

"  I  write  in  great  haste.  I  cannot 
send  to  the  '  Gil  Bias '  for  the  note  till  to- 
morrow, as  I  have  just  come  in  from  a  lecture, 
and  am  very  tired  in  spite  of  the  astonishing 
success  I  have  had. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  267 

"  I  beg  of  you  (in  great  haste,  post  just 
going)  to  send  out  the  presentation  copies 
with  the  publisher's  compliments,  in  the 
author's  absence.  This  is  constantly  done. 
I  can  yet  earn  800  francs  by  lectures  here, 
so  I  cannot  come  back  so  soon.  But  I 
will  give  up  the  whole  of  to-morrow  to 
drawing  up  notes  and  other  matters  for  the 
book.  And  I  have,  besides,  all  the  proofs 
of  another  book  to  correct  right  off. 

"  At  least  500  copies  have  been  sold  in 
advance  in  Belgium  through  my  lectures, 
at  which  I  have  read,  or  am  about  to  read, 
extracts.  I  go  on  Tuesday  to  Liege,  then 
to  Antwerp,  Ghent,  etc.,  and  shall  be  in 
Paris  in  less  than  ten  days.    Greetings  ! " 

"  My  dear  M  , 

"  You  send  me  no  books,  and  yet 
you  have  no  idea  of  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
I  am  received  here,  nor  that  two  or  three 
hundred  book-lovers  are  buying  my  works, 
which,  rightly  or  wrongly,  do  not  seem  to  have 
been  written  solely  to  be  used  for  lighting 
fires.  The  newspapers  say  wonderful  things  of 


268         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

me,  and  I  am  very  much  pleased  I  am  giving 
lectures  in  several  towns,  and  hope  to  bring 
back  a  little  money.  I  shall  not  be  able  to 
start  back  till  Saturday  or  Sunday.  It  can- 
not be  possible  that  the  '  Histoires  Insolites ' 
are  not  even  stitched  yet.    Hearty  greetings  ! 

"  Villiers. 

"  P.S. — I  have  already  caught  the  Belgian 
accent !" 

"  My  dear  Friend, 

"  Great  haste,  post  just  off.  Huge 
success,  five  recalls,  the  queen,  etc.  Three 
columns  about  me  in  every  paper.  I  am  at 
the  Grand  Hotel,  No.  147. 

"  Hasty  greetings  ! 
"  Villiers  de  l'Isle  Adam. 

"  P.S. — Send  the  '  Histoires  Insolites'  for 
lecture." 

Thus  did  fortune,  so  long  perverse  towards 
the  poet,  consent  at  last  to  shower  her  smiles 
upon  him.    Alas  !  she  only  did  it  to  make 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  269 

the  final  blows  she  was  preparing  to  deal 
him  seem  more  cruel !  She  hated  this  great 
gentleman,  this  poet,  who  had  always  borne 
with  magnificent  scorn  the  deepest  wounds 
she  gave  him,  scarce  feeling  them,  indeed, 
thanks  to  that  sovereign  balm  of  fancy  which 
had  been  given  to  him  at  birth  by  his  god- 
mother, the  fairy  queen  of  the  ideal.  And 
now,  to  avenge  herself  for  all  his  disdain, 
she  was  about  to  call  the  forces  of  agonizing 
physical  suffering  to  her  aid. 

Everything  smiled  on  Villiers  in  that  year 
1888.  He  was  free  from  want;  he  had 
grown  famous  ;  publishers  received  him  with 
a  friendly  smile ;  he  heard  himself  addressed 
as  "  Master  "  at  the  evening  parties  at  Char- 
pentier  s  ;  the  smaller  fry  of  the  literary  world 
buzzed  flatteringly  around  him.  "  Axel "  (in 
the  "  Revue  Independante ")  was  making  a 
great  stir.  His  books,  the  "  Histoires  Inso- 
lites"  and  the  "  Nouveaux  Contes  Cruels," 
were  being  bought.  He  himself  was  asto- 
nished at  the  sudden  reaction.  And  lo  ! — sick- 
ness came  upon  him  like  a  terrible,  implacable 
enemy,  threw  its  arms  about  him,  overthrew 


270         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

him,  cast  him  on  his  bed  groaning,  shivering, 
lost  and  convulsed  in  agonizing  suffering. 
A  short  time  before,  the  poor  poet,  weary 
of  Paris,  and  longing  for  green  woods  and 
water,  had  retired  to  Nogent-sur-Marne ; 
and  thither  death  sent  his  pale-faced  emis- 
saries to  take  possession  of  him. 

Another  pen,  reader,  more  worthily  than 
mine,  will  tell  you  how  he  left  Nogent  for 
the  house  of  the  Brothers  of  St.  Jean  de 
Dieu ;  how  his  last  hours  passed  there, 
and  how  he  died,  after  accomplishing  a  final 
sacrifice  worthy  of  all  his  life.  For  I  have 
appealed  to  one  who  was  the  deeply-moved 
witness  and  the  chief  support  of  Villiers'  last 
agony,  the  last  to  bid  him  farewell  on  the 
shores  of  eternity,  to  relate  in  all  its  true 
and  heartbreaking  details  the  story  of  the 
poet's  end. 

M.  Huysmans  understood  the  motive  of 
my  request,  and  he  has  consented,  in  spite  of 
its  bitterness,  to  revive  the  memory  of  the 
sad  hours  spent  by  that  deathbed,  for  the 
sake  of  paying  a  last  homage  to  his  friend 
and  comrade.    Here  is  his  letter: 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  271 

"Paris,  April  21,  1892. 
"  Dear  Sir,  and  Brother  Writer, 

"  You  are  by  no  means  a  stranger 
to  me.  I  have  read  your  words  about  Vil- 
liers  in  '  L'Hermine,'  and  several  times,  if 
my  memory  does  not  deceive  me,  our  late 
friend  mentioned  you  to  me.  I  knew,  there- 
fore, that  I  had  to  do  with  one  whose  out- 
ward appearance  only  was  unfamiliar,  when 
Landry 1  spoke  to  me  of  the  book  you  thought 
of  writing. 

"  Villiers  was  very  dear  to  me,  and  like 
you  (especially  on  evenings  when  I  have  had 
to  endure  some  very  empty  chatter)  I  am 
haunted  by  the  presence  of  him  who  certainly 
may  be  bracketed  with  Barbey  d'Aurevilly 
as  the  two  most  astonishing  conversationalists 
of  our  day.  I  first  knew  him  many  years 
ago  (in  1876)  at  the  house  of  Catulle  Mendes, 
who  managed  the  '  Republique  des  Lettres/ 
on  which  we  were  both  writing.    But  our 

1  M.  G.  Landry,  head  clerk  to  M.  Savine,  the  book- 
seller, whom  I  cannot  sufficiently  thank  for  the  sym- 
pathy, help,  and  information  he  has  given  me  during 
the  writing  of  my  book. 


272         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

friendships  and  our  tastes  alike  differing,  we 
soon  drifted  apart.  We  met  again  after  the 
publication  of  1 A  Rebours,'  and  thence- 
forward, far  from  the  boulevards,  our  friendly 
relations  recommenced.  He  used  to  come 
on  Sundays,  with  his  child,  little  Totor,  to 
dine  with  me,  and  these  occasions  were 
memorable  ones  to  those  who  met  him.  Sus- 
picious, and  justly  on  the  defensive  as  he 
generally  was  when  he  met  literary  people, 
the  hesitating  mode  of  expression  in  which 
he  usually  took  refuge  the  moment  he  felt 
he  had  let  himself  go  too  far,  was  laid  aside 
in  the  congenial  atmosphere  of  faithful  friend- 
ship and  true  admiration ;  and,  safe  from 
any  fear  of  plagiarism  or  treachery,  he  would 
launch  out  and  talk  about  his  own  life,  in  a 
fashion  at  once  poetic  and  realistic,  ironical 
and  madly  gay. 

"  I  remember,  in  this  connection,  one 
14th  of  July,  when  he  came  and  dined  with 
the  father  of  Lucien  Descaves,  at  Mont- 
rouge.  After  dinner,  he  sat  down  to  the 
piano,  and,  lost  in  a  sort  of  dream,  he  sang, 
in  his  cracked  and  quavering  voice,  bits  of 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  273 

Wagner,  mixed  up  with  choruses  of  barrack 
songs,  and  joining  all  together  with  strident 
laughter,  wild  jokes,  and  quaint  rhymes. 

"  But  nobody  ever  had  such  a  talent  for 
raising  and  transforming  a  joke  into  something 
far  beyond  its  apparent  scope,  and  even  be- 
yond the  widest  range  of  possibility.  There 
was  a  punchbowl  always  flaming,  as  it  were,  in 
his  brain.  How  often  have  I  seen  him  in  the 
morning,  just  out  of  bed  and  hardly  awake, 
holding  forth  as  brilliantly  as  when  of  an 
evening  he  would  tell  us  astounding  anec- 
dotes and  inimitable  stories  over  our  coffee  ! 

"  But  our  meetings  grew  rarer.  Sickness 
prostrated  him,  laid  him  shivering  in  his  bed. 
Weary  of  Paris,  he  settled  at  Nogent,  and  soon 
grew  worse.  Dr.  Robin  recognized  the  symp- 
toms of  cancer,  but  disguised  the  truth,  assert- 
ing that  the  malady  was  one  of  the  digestive 
organs,  and  fortunately  Villiers  believed  him. 
One  day  that  he  was  more  suffering  than 
usual,  the  sick  man  complained  to  me  about 
the  house  he  was  in.  It  was,  as  a  matter  of 
fa£t,  as  cold  as  a  cellar,  sunless,  almost  rotted 
with  damp.    He  said  he  would  like  to  leave 

T 


274         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

it,  and  added  that  he  needed  skilful  nurses  to 
turn  and  move  him  in  his  bed.  I  mentioned 
the  Brothers  of  St.  Jean  de  Dieu  in  the  Rue 
Oudinot  in  Paris,  and  two  days  later  I  had  a 
letter  from  him  saying  he  was  settled  in  their 
house,  thanks  to  the  mediation  of  Coppee 
with  the  director,  which  obtained  for  him 
exceptionally  easy  terms  of  admission.  I 
found  him  there  delighted  with  the  change, 
convinced  of  his  speedy  recovery,  full  of 
plans,  amongst  others  to  give  up  going  to  the 
brasseries  on  the  boulevards  and  to  work 
quietly  in  some  corner  far  from  the  buzz  of 
journalism. 

"  He  who  had  been  so  unlucky  and  so  poor 
all  his  life  was  now  in  comparative  affluence, 
and  no  longer  haunted  by  detestable  pecuniary 
anxieties.  Mallarme,  a  very  sincere  and  at- 
tentive friend,  had  opened  a  secret  subscription 
for  him,  and  I,  on  my  part,  had  at  my  disposal 
a  tolerable  sum  which  the  faithful  Francis 
Poictevin  had  confided  to  me  with  the  same 
object. 

"  Villiers  began  at  this  time  to  talk  about 
'Axel,'  which  was  then  on  the  stocks,  and 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  275 

which  he  desired  to  remodel,  suppressing 
some  theories  in  it  which,  from  the  Catholic 
point  of  view,  he  thought  were  unorthodox. 
And  then  suddenly  he  grew  silent.  For  the 
first  time,  perhaps,  in  his  life,  that  gift  of  fancy, 
which  had  enabled  him  to  forget  all  the  end- 
less sufferings  of  life  in  the  fairyland  of  his 
imagination,  failed  him.  He  beheld  life  as  it 
really  is,  understood  that  cruel  reality  was 
about  to  wreak  her  vengeance  on  him,  and 
then  his  long  martyrdom  began. 

"  The  digestive  functions  ceased  to  work,  his 
strength  failed,  his  emaciation  became  frightful. 
A  sort  of  straw-coloured  shadow  crept  over  his 
features,  and  in  the  wasted  face  the  eyes  lived 
on,  seeming  to  pierce  the  very  soul  of  the  on- 
lookers with  their  terrifying  glance.  In  spite 
of  the  efforts  of  Madame  Mery  Laurent,  a 
friend  who  nursed  him  and  petted  him,  bring- 
ing him  the  most  nourishing  food  and  authentic 
wines,  he  could  not  eat,  and  death  approached 
with  rapid  strides. 

"  And  here  must  come  in  the  sad  episode 
of  his  marriage.  For  reasons  which  he  did 
not  disclose,  Villiers  hesitated,  hung  back, 


1 


276         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

would  not  answer  when  we  spoke  to  him 
timidly,  and  with  much  circumlocution,  about 
his  little  son,  and  suggested  that  in  order 
to  legitimize  the  child  he  should  marry  the 
mother,  with  whom  he  had  long  lived.  Im- 
pelled by  our  argument,  that  probably  after 
his  death  the  Minister  of  Public  Instruction 
would  grant  a  pension  to  the  child  that  bore 
his  name,  he  at  last  consented.  But  when 
it  came  to  fixing  the  day  and  getting  the 
necessary  papers  together,  he  put  us  off, 
raised  objections,  and  finally  shut  himself 
up  in  such  obstinate  silence  that  we  had  to 
be  silent  too.  The  friends  who  were  in  the 
habit  of  visiting  him,  Madame  Mery  Laurent, 
Stephane  Mallarme,  Leon  Dierx,  Gustave 
Guiches,  and  I  myself,  did  not  know  what 
wiles  to  employ  to  induce  him  to  yield.  He 
was  growing  hourly  weaker,  and  we  began 
to  fear  he  would  die  before  we  could  get  the 
documents  necessary  for  the  marriage  to- 
gether. Sick  with  anxiety,  it  occurred  to  me 
one  morning  to  apply  to  the  almoner  of  the 
Brothers  of  St.  Jean  de  Dieu,  a  Franciscan 
from  the  Holy  Land,  the  Rev.  Pere  Sylvestre. 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  277 

He  was  a  gentle  and  compassionate  monk, 
who  had  already  helped  Barbey  d'Aurevilly 
to  die.  I  reminded  him  of  the  lamentable 
story,  which  he  already  knew,  for  Villiers  had 
confessed  to  him  and  received  the  communion 
from  his  hand. 

"He  simply  answered:  'Well,  just  wait 
for  me  there.  I  will  go  up  and  say  a  word  to 
him.'  Five  minutes  later,  he  left  the  sick- 
room, and  Villiers  had  consented  to  an  imme- 
diate marriage. 

"  Time  pressed,  and  it  was  difficult  to  get 
hold  of  the  certificates  which  were  scattered 
about  in  different  registry  offices.  Of  the  few 
friends  who  still  remained  faithful  to  him  (his 
cafe  and  newspaper  acquaintances  had  of 
course  long  since  abandoned  him),  the  only 
ones  left  in  Paris  were  Leon  Dierx,  who  was 
shut  up  all  day  in  his  office,  Gustave  Guiches, 
and  myself.  It  was  summer-time.  Mallarme 
was  ill,  and  had  fled  to  the  country.  Madame 
Mery  Laurent  was  away  taking  waters. 
There  was  a  wild  hunt  after  the  necessary 
documents.  Guiches  and  M.  de  Malherbe  (a 
clerk  at  Quantin's  bookshop,  who  was  to  be 


278         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

one  of  the  wife's  witnesses)  devoted  themselves 
to  it,  and  between  the  three  of  us,  with  the 
help  of  an  employe  at  the  Mairie  of  the 
7th  Arrondissement,  M.  Raoul  Denieau,  an 
admirer  of  Villiers,  who  smoothed  down  many 
difficulties  which  we  should  have  stumbled 
at,  we  contrived  on  the  very  day  appointed 
for  the  marriage  to  bring  together  the  neces- 
sary certificates.  The  marriage  took  place  in 
the  sick-room.  And  here  I  hesitate  somewhat 
to  reveal  the  whole  truth.  But  you  will  make 
whatever  use  you  think  right  of  this  letter, 
and  you  will  judge  whether,  amongst  the  facls, 
all  of  them  absolutely  true,  which  I  send  you, 
to  strengthen  the  authoritative  accuracy  of  your 
book,  these  particular  ones  should  be  given  to 
the  public.  On  the  whole,  I  think  myself  that 
they  should — for  the  details  of  the  suffering 
of  such  a  man  as  Villiers  are  worth  learning. 

"  When  it  became  necessary  to  sign  the  re- 
gisters, the  wife  stated  that  she  did  not  know 
how  to  write.  There  was  a  terrible  moment 
of  silence.  Villiers  lay  in  agony  with  his  eyes 
closed.  Ah !  he  was  spared  nothing.  His 
cup  overflowed  with  bitterness  and  humilia- 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  279 

tion !  And  while  we  were  all  looking  at  each 
other,  almost  broken-hearted,  the  wife  added  : 
'  I  can  make  a  cross  as  I  did  for  my  first 
marriage.'  And  we  took  her  hand  and  helped 
her  to  make  the  mark.  After  the  ceremony 
the  four  witnesses,  Mallarme,  Dierx,  M.  de 
Malherbe,  and  I,  tasted  a  little  champagne 
which  Villiers  insisted  on  offering  to  us.  Then 
the  Rev.  Pere  Sylvestre  came  to  celebrate  the 
religious  marriage.  And  then  it  was  that  we 
had  an  opportunity  of  realizing  the  priest's 
kindness  of  heart.  Villiers'  wife  used  to 
spend  the  day  with  him.  In  spite  of  her 
false  position,  the  Brothers  of  St.  Jean  shut 
their  eyes  to  this  infringement  of  the  letter  of 
their  rules.  But  of  course  her  visits  had  to 
end  with  the  day ;  she  had  to  leave  at  twilight, 
and  this  was  a  heartbreak  to  the  unhappy 
man,  who  dreaded  dying  alone  in  the  night. 
When  he  had  pronounced  the  marriage  bene- 
diction, the  Rev.  Pere  Sylvestre  said  in  rather 
a  hurried  voice,  'Although  women  are  not 
allowed  to  spend  the  night  here  as  a  rule, 
I  have  obtained  permission  that  now  you  are 
married  you  shall  not  be  separated  again.' 


28o         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

The  monk  had  thought  of  giving  this  last 
happiness  to  the  dying  man.  Villiers'  eyes 
filled  with  tears ;  he  made  a  gesture,  then  fell 
back  exhausted,  almost  fainting  from  fatigue, 
and  we  left  him. 

"  I  went  to  see  him  the  next  day,  and  all 
the  following  days.  He  could  no  longer 
speak,  but  would  squeeze  your  hand  gently, 
and  look  at  you  with  great  sad  patient  eyes. 
The  evening  before  his  death  he  received 
the  last  sacrament,  and  lay  half-conscious,  his 
wan  face  grown  hollow  and  his  throat  rattling. 
I  felt  the  end  was  very  near,  but  overwhelmed 
as  I  was  I  had  to  hurry  away,  for  it  was  very 
late,  and  the  convent  was  closing  for  the 
night. 

"  A  ring  at  the  bell  early  next  morning 
made  me  jump  out  of  bed.  *  Villiers  is  dead/ 
I  said  to  myself,  and  it  was  too  true.  His 
wife  sank  sobbing  into  a  chair  in  my  room. 

"What  more  shall  I  say?  Better  say 
nothing  of  the  literary  vultures  who  settled 
on  that  corpse,  of  the  reporters  who  used  to 
come  daily  to  await  his  decease  and  place 
their  wares,  .who  were  now  able  to  draw 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  281 


their  pay,  and  cease  their  constant  calls  of 
inquiry. 

"  Little  use  either  in  telling  you  about  the 
funeral,  at  which  the  mourners,  Mallarme, 
Dierx,  and  I,  sheltered  the  poor  unconscious 
orphan  boy  as  best  we  could  from  the  pelting 
rain.  And  yet  I  will  say  one  other  word 
concerning  that  funeral  ceremony,  at  which 
the  Rev.  Pere  Sylvestre  pronounced  the 
benediction,  in  the  Church  of  St.  Francois 
Xavier.  Our  own  resources  being  exhausted, 
we  applied,  Gustave  Guiches  and  I,  to  the 
office  of  the  '  Figaro,'  and  M.  Magnard, 
with  a  kindly  courtesy  which  I  never  can 
forget,  offered  to  place  at  our  disposal  the 
sum  necessary  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the 
decent  burial  of  our  friend. 

"  Others,  my  dear  sir,  will  give  you  more 
complete  information  concerning  Villiers  life, 
and  will  furnish  you  with  the  details  of  that 
extraordinary  existence,  starving,  forlorn, 
penniless,  and  clouded  by  troubles  so  great 
as  to  make  his  condition  at  times  without 
parallel  in  its  misery.  I  have  confined  my- 
self to  those  sad  incidents  which  immediately 


1 


282         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

preceded  his  death,  and,  as  you  have  narrated 
the  beginning  of  his  life,  so  I  relate  to  you 
its  close. 

"  In  conclusion,  dear  sir,  I  have  to  wish 
your  book  good  luck,  and  I  do  it  with  all  my 
heart.  May  your  work  kindle  some  spark  of 
regret  for  its  own  injustice  in  that  public 
which  so  resolutely  refused  to  acknowledge 
the  talent  of  Villiers  before  his  death. 

"Believe  me,  etc., 

"J.  K.  HlJYSMANS." 

The  next  day,  Tuesday,  20th  August,  1889, 
a  few  hours  before  the  burial,  M.  Henri  de 
Lavedan,  a  young  writer  whom  Villiers  de 
l'lsle  Adam  had  inspired  with  one  of  those 
enthusiastic  attachments  which  he  alone  could 
create,  asked  permission  to  gaze  once  more 
on  the  features  of  the  dead  man  who  had 
been  so  dear  to  him,  and  prayed  long  in  the 
quiet  little  room.  I  desire  to  place  here,  as 
the  conclusion  of  the  work  in  which  I  have 
endeavoured  to  outline  the  life  of  that  great 
believer  and  great  artist,  the  Comte  Philippe 
Auguste  Matthias  de  Villiers  de  l'lsle  Adam, 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  283 

these  lines  instinct  with  deep  and  sincere 
feeling,  which  were  written  immediately  after 
this  farewell  visit : 

"  On  an  August  morning,  wet  and  dreary 
as  a  November  evening,  in  the  house  of 
the  Brothers  of  St.  Jean  de  Dieu,  which  stands 
in  the  quiet  quarter  of  the  '  Invalides,'  the 
brown-robed  monk  gently  closed  the  door 
behind  me,  and  I  saw  before  me  Villiers  de 
Flsle  Adam  lying  on  his  deathbed.  We  are 
alone  together,  he  and  I.  The  little  room  is 
very  quiet,  clean  with  the  cleanliness  of  the 
cloister  and  the  death-chamber — coldly  calm. 
On  the  chimney-piece  the  flame  of  the  candles 
burns  high  and  motionless,  undisturbed  by  any 
breath  of  air  ;  and  the  half-closed  eyes  of  the 
gifted  scoffer  who  shall  scoff  no  more,  gazing 
lifelessly  at  the  coffin  waiting  on  the  floor, 
seem  to  contemplate  it  as  though  it  were  a 
friend.  I  kneel  on  a  prie-dieu,  and  gaze 
on  the  face  of  the  master  I  have  known 
and  loved.  The  narrow  bed  on  which  he 
died  is  all  too  wide  for  his  poor  body,  ema- 
ciated by  long  and  cruel  suffering.    But  the 


284         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

proud  and  beautiful  head,  whose  great  fore- 
head seems  to  have  been  carved  out  by  death 
for  posterity  in  the  firmest  and  whitest  of 
marbles,  stands  out  with  a  royal  dignity. 
Sightless  and  voiceless  as  it  is,  bereft  of 
thought,  of  everything  that  made  it  glorious, 
that  splendid  head  still  seems  to  fill  the  room. 
It  seems  to  be  the  head  of  him  who  Yilliers 
would  have  been,  had  he  lived,  and  fought, 
and  sung,  in  one  of  those  ages  of  faith  which 
he  loved,  and  loved  with  the  bitter  love  of  the 
exile.  It  was  as  solemnly  beautiful  under  the 
shadow  of  those  cotton  curtains,  as  it  would 
have  been  under  a  gold-fringed  dais,  and  I 
could  have  fancied  I  beheld  the  corpse  of  one 
of  his  ancestors,  a  Villiers  de  Flsle  Adam  of 
the  crusading  times,  who,  worn  out  by  fever, 
fatigue,  long  marches,  wounds,  and  thirst,  had 
at  last,  on  some  burning  shore  of  Palestine, 
rendered  up  his  gallant  soul  to  God  who 
called  it. 

"  Visions  and  beliefs.  These  were  the 
whole  of  Villiers'  being.  As  I  looked  at 
him  lying  there  with  a  poor  rosary  in  his 
folded  hands,  his  whole  frame  stretched  out 


VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM.  285 

with  a  tired  air  (betokening  as  much  weari- 
ness as  resignation),  I  could  not  but  remember 
that  he  was  a  steadfast  Christian,  believing, 
and  practising  what  he  believed.  It  was  his 
faith  alone  which  kept  him  straight  to  the 
end  of  the  book  of  his  life,  to  the  last  line, 
and  to  his  last  breath,  without  a  blot  on  the 
escutcheon  which  descends  to  his  son  as  stain- 
less as  he  inherited  it  from  his  own  father. 

"  And  I  imagine  that  the  severe  and  noble 
expression  on  the  calm  features  of  this  Chris- 
tian man  of  letters  comes  of  the  joy  of  feeling 
he  is  free,  delivered  at  last  from  this  life  of 
emptiness,  of  folly,  of  many  pangs,  which 
brought  him  nothing,  neither  health,  nor 
wealth,  nor  love,  nor  glory. 

"  Death  did  not  come  upon  Villiers  un- 
awares ;  he  watched  its  slow  approach  with 
perfect  calmness.  He  bore  the  Cross  of  Malta ; 
he  was  well  prepared  to  meet  the  King  of 
Terrors,  and  when  he  drew  near  and  stood 
before  him,  he  received  the  accolade  fearlessly, 
like  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman,  hoping  perhaps 
that  his  reward  was  beginning.  He  knew,  in 
his  humble  trust,  that  the  hour  had  come  for 


286         VILLIERS  DE  L'ISLE  ADAM. 

his  own  judgment  on  high,  for  that  of  his 
work  here  below,  and  doubtless  he  repeated 
mentally  that  motto  of  Hassan-ben-Sabbah 
which  he  placed  at  the  head  of  his  own  poem, 
'  Azrael ' — '  O  Death  !  those  who  are  about  to 
live  salute  thee  ! ' " 


FINIS. 


CHISWICK  PRESS  '. — C.  WHITTINGHAM  AND  CO. 
TOOKS  COURT,  CHANCERY  LANE. 


